The Vision
by Adamantwrites
Summary: In following the trail to find Joe, Hoss and Adam are also following the trail of a killer. Or are they one and the same?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. Original OC's and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

 _Prologue_

 _The two young girls were excited. The carnival only came to Virginia City once a year and offered a welcome diversion from fall harvest. The air was chill but torches lit the areas and there were so many people walking the narrow lanes between attractions, talking, laughing, eating and pointing out games or oddities such as the goat-footed boy that it seemed almost warm. The large tents blocked any possible breeze but when one came to the end of the tents, the wind whipped up and cut to the bone like a sharp knife._

 _"_ _Look! The Fattest Woman in the World! Let's go see her!' The girl with the red curls pointed to the flapping canvas on which was painted an image of a grotesquely fat woman. The girls held each other's hand as they managed to move through the crowds between the attractions._

 _"_ _I'm not wasting a nickel on that," the blonde girl said, "when every Sunday for free we can see Reverend Packer's wife._ _ **She's**_ _the fattest woman in the world." The two girls giggled. "Can you imagine," the blonde said in a lowered voice, "how they manage to…you know…do it?" and the two girls laughed at their naughtiness._

 _"Guess that's why they don't have any children," the one with the red curls said and they laughed again._

 _"_ _Oh look," the blonde said, only this time she pointed. "Adam Cartwright is coming out of that tent!"_

 _"_ _And Hoss and Joe, his brothers—if you believe they're brothers. My ma says that it's funny they look nothing alike—I mean they had the same pa and all and then there's like six or seven years between them. Why Adam's maybe 24 or so." The redhead's brow furrowed with concern. Her parents talked more than they should about the Cartwrights, mainly because they were such a powerful and wealthy family but they were interesting-and a bit mysterious as the wealthy always were._

 _"_ _Maybe so but I'd sure like to marry Little Joe one day. He asked if he could copy my sums before school yesterday and told me my hair was the color of sunshine."_

 _"_ _Did you let him copy them?" The redhead eagerly asked._

 _"_ _Yeah, and he kissed me for it!" The two lovely girls giggled again. "This is the last year he has to go to school. I bet Joe won't stay on after 8th grade graduation."_

 _"_ _I guess not. Then I'll never see him except for church." She stopped as the three Cartwright's walked in the other direction. "Look, that's the fortune teller's tent they left—Madam Tomescu: She sees all, knows all—at least that's what it says."_

 _The two girls stood outside the tent. Unlike the other attractions, no one was outside hawking Madam Tomescu's immense, otherworldly talents. The tent canvas showed a painted picture of an old woman in a turban looking into a crystal ball, her gnarled hands surrounding it, her eyes open in surprise at what she apparently saw in its crystalline depths. Surrounding her were swirling images of happy people. One man reveled in gold coins showering down on him, a man and a woman kissed in a lover's embrace, a mother smiled down at the infant in her arms and a man stood facing a vista that held a mansion and fertile fields of grain._

 _"_ _C'mon, Amy," the girl with red hair said. "Let's go have our fortunes told. It's only a nickel. C'mon!"_

 _"_ _I don't know," Amy said. "My ma always says that things like fortune tellers are evil; the Bible preaches against them."_

 _"_ _The Cartwright boys were just there so there's nothing wrong with it. C'mon, Amy. We can ask who we're going to marry. Maybe it'll be Little Joe!"_

 _"_ _I don't know, Bethy. Besides, we can't both marry Little Joe."_

 _"_ _I'll marry him first, leave him, and then you can, okay? But you'll have to give him back again." Bethy smiled and Amy laughed. "Now, c'mon." Bethy tugged on Amy's hand and the two girls giggled again and entered the tent._

 _An old woman sat at a round table, a candle in the middle and a deck of cards before her; there were three other chairs waiting. Other chairs were around the periphery of the small tent for anyone who had to wait but there was no one else inside or so it seemed, and the tent was surprisingly quiet, almost removed from the carnival and all its merriments. A brazier supplied the heat and it was almost suffocating hot. Bethy and Amy stood together, holding each other's hands. A voice came from a dark corner of the tent causing the girls to startle. "Do you have your nickels?" A tall, dark-haired, young woman stepped into the light._

 _"_ _Yes," Bethy almost whispered. She and Amy exchanged looks and then each pulled a nickel out of their coat pockets and put it in the woman's hand. She smiled as she pocketed the money in her apron and then told them to sit. The girls exchanged glances again and then sat down, pulling their chairs closer to each other while the woman went to stand behind Madam Tomescu.._

 _The old woman spoke with a heavy European accent. "You want to know the unknown. You want to know your futures." The girls nodded. "Is there a special question? Do you want to know if you will have wealth, many children, a castle, happiness beyond human ken?"_

 _"_ _Who am I going to marry? Can you tell me who I'm going to marry?" Amy asked and held tighter to Bethy's hand._

 _Without saying anything, Madame Tomescu shuffled a deck of cards and laid out a few on them. The girls had never seen cards like them; they held odd and frightening pictures._

 _"_ _I thought you used a crystal ball," Bethy said._

 _"_ _No, my young one, the cards talk to me—they tell me all I need to know." The fortuneteller stared at the lay-out and then scooped up the cards and shuffled them. She smiled at Amy. "You will marry the man of your greatest desire. He will be kind and good and wealthy. You and he will have a great many children and grandchildren and find much happiness. You will live to an old age."_

 _"_ _Will he be handsome?" Amy asked._

 _"_ _Yes, my child. He will be beautiful."_

 _"_ _Did you hear that, Bethy? The man of my desires—my greatest desire—and handsome. It has to be Joe!"_

 _"_ _How about me, now?" Bethy asked. "What do the cards tell me about getting married?"_

 _The cards were again laid out and this time, Madame Tomescu stared at them longer. Then she said, "You will marry at a late age and find that love is not found easily and then kept—love for you will die early but you will find some joy from your only child."_

 _"_ _What about money? Will I be a wealthy woman too?" Bethy waited, barely breathing._

 _"_ _No, you will not be wealthy but you will not be so poor that you must beg." Madam Tomescu gathered the cards again. "If you want more readings, you will have to pay another nickel."_

 _"_ _Oh, let's go, Amy. I don't think she can see the future at all. It's like all the other shows—a cheat—like that giraffe man. He just had blotchy skin, not a long neck like in the picture."_

 _Madam Tomescu said nothing as the two girls rose and walked out the tent together._

 _"_ _Did you hear what she said?" Amy said, giggling. "I've got a wonderful life ahead and I just know that I'm going to marry Joe. I know it!"_

 _"_ _Oh, Amy! Madam Tomescu just has stupid cards. If she'd had a crystal ball, I might believe what she said." But Bethy did believe it; she was going to have an ordinary life and marry an ordinary man and she would never know love, at least not in the way her young heart longed to know._

 _Back in the tent, the standing woman put a gentle hand on Madam Tomescu's shoulder. "You were being kind, weren't you?"_

 _"_ _I could not tell that lovely girl that she will never marry—that the cards showed nothing for her future but a sudden and violent death." Madam Tomescu closed her eyes. The man with the dark hair and handsome features who had been accompanied by his brothers and left before the girls came into the tent—him she had told the truth—he was not one to whom a person lied but she knew he would not believe her. And he hadn't and not only that, he denigrated the readings she had given the other two, accused them of gullibility. But Madam Tomescu knew._

 _Two weeks after the carnival had moved on, young Amy Forrester's partially-naked body was found half-in and half-out of a small creek near the edge of the Ponderosa by Ben and his eldest son Adam Cartwright who were out checking line, her hair and small arms floating on the top of the rushing water, her blank eyes staring up at the blue sky. She had been assaulted and throttled and left in the wilderness-by whom, no one ever knew._

 _Amy Forrester was the first victim of an unknown killer—the first of seven females, some as young as Amy. One victim, Gwen Tucker, a local rancher's wife was in her forties and found half-in and half-out of the lake on their property. Her clothing had been ripped off, some fabric still clinging to her arms. All seven murders occurred over the next seven months—all the same—once a month-all the victims partially in water, the lower torso lying on the ground, the head and upper arms in the water-and then the deaths suddenly stopped. But for months afterward, even up to two years afterwards, mothers warned their daughters—"Remember what happened to….be wary." And women were always hesitant whenever they were out alone whether it be in town or on their own property. One never knew if the killings would suddenly start up again. One never knew._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

"I say we go up and drag 'im down by his ankles. Then his worthless ass'll bounce off each step." Hoss Cartwright had drained his fifth mug of beer in Miss Ora's gambling parlor that took up the bottom floor of her establishment. He had already enjoyed a woman upstairs, been in a lengthy poker game in which he lost more than a whole month's pay along with everyone else who was playing, to his older brother Adam and he wanted to leave for home. Hoss was feeling mean and cantankerous as well as hopelessly broke. All the other card players had left by then and so Adam Cartwright sat across from Hoss, turning his drink around and around on the tabletop with his fingers, keeping it within an old white circle on the wood, his hat tilted low on his forehead. He was hugely satisfied with his evening's endeavors.

Adam pulled out his pocket watch. "It's almost midnight." He stood up and tucked his watch back into the small pocket. "Let's go do it."

Grinning, Hoss stood up. " 'Bout time. Iffen he ain't finished yet, well, that's too bad but my money says he's just sweet-talkin' 'er. You know what a lady's man Joe thinks he is."

"Oh, yeah," Adam said, "and your bets are always on the money." There were hardly any women left downstairs, just a few garishly clad "soiled doves," one playing solitaire and two others talking quietly. All the rest had already left to sleep or had someone upstairs and the only other man downstairs besides Hoss and Adam Cartwright, was a big man named Burke who served as muscle; he could easily toss out anyone who caused trouble—anyone but Hoss, that is. Hoss had about fifty pounds on the man but then Hoss rarely caused trouble.

Adam and Hoss, after acknowledging Burke and getting his silent approval to go upstairs, took the stairs to the third floor and stood outside the whore's room whom Joe frequented—Millie. At age 27, she was five years older than Joe but he adored her, believed he was in love with her much to his brothers' amusement. Adam and Hoss kept to themselves that they had known Millie and her many charms themselves, for Joe's sake and apparently Millie never revealed it either.

Adam raised his knuckles, about to rap on the door when Hoss asked him to wait. "Lemme hear if we're interruptin' anything." Adam gave a snort of disgust but waited while Hoss pulled off his Stetson and pressed his ear to the door. Then he stepped away from the door and replaced his hat. "Go ahead."

Adam rapped loudly on the door. "Joe, come on—time to go. Kiss her goodbye and get out here or we'll drag you out!"

Hoss chimed in, "I'll put my shoulder to that door, boy—let's go!' Adam and Hoss grinned at each other as they heard a flurry of noise from behind the door and within half a minute, Joe stood before them buttoning up his trousers, his shirt flapping open and his boots still toppled over on the floor. Millie stood holding Joe's hat, a flimsy wrap barely covering her.

"Let's go," Adam said, grabbing Joe by the arm and taking the hat from Millie. "Thank you, ma'am." She smiled at Adam and he winked; his attention still gave her a slight thrill.

"But I…I haven't paid…" Joe looked around helplessly while Adam pulled him out the door. It was always like this, Joe thought—he was always at the mercy of his older brothers.

Adam stopped, reached in his pocket and gave Millie a handful of silver coins, more than enough money, while Hoss grabbed up Joe's boots. "Ma'am," Hoss said, tipping his hat to Millie, and he and Adam pulled Joe down the stairs and out the front door.

"Put on your boots," Adam said, plopping Joe's hat on his tousled curls.

"You know, I wasn't through," Joe said beginning to become outraged and indignant as he pulled on one boot while balancing on one stocking foot, and then pulled on the other. Hoss handed Joe his jacket and he shrugged it on and then finished buttoning his shirt.

The horses were anxious to leave now that their riders were before them. Adam mounted up and Hoss waited until Joe was ready to go.

"You were through, all right," Adam said. "Your body was just ignoring the message. Now let's go. As it is, we won't be home until after 1:00."

The Cartwright brothers headed out of Virginia City and taking an easy pace with their horses, they took to the countryside. They rode in silence for a while and then Joe spoke up.

"I think I might want to marry Millie." Joe waited but neither Adam nor Hoss said anything. "Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," Adam said.

"So did I, but that ain't the head on your shoulders talkin'."

"I'm serious."

"Joe, you're only 22 years old. Millie is very talented—many men, including two you know well—very well…"

Hoss chimed in with, "They're like brothers to you," grinning at the joke.

"…can attest to that," Adam finished. "But she's not wife material—at least not for you." Adam looked up into the night sky. Half a moon shone above.

"Wait a minute," Joe said. "You mean you two…"

"Yeah, I mean me and our other brother here have experienced her talents as well. Do you really want a wife who's basically been a mattress for any cowboy who has the money?"

Joe said nothing—just rode along in sulky silence. "Remember that fortune teller back at that carnival? She said that I would marry a woman whose name started with an 'M' so whenever I meet one, I think about that. Millie's name starts with an 'M'."

"What?" Adam looked at Hoss, "What's he talking about?"

"That fortune teller we saw at that carnival years ago." Hoss explained. "You know, Adam. The one who said you'd drown in dark water and who told me that I'd never marry at all but live with my dear old daddy all his life and then some."

"You kidding me, Joe?" Adam asked. "You want to marry Millie just because years ago some charlatan told you that you'd marry a woman with a name that starts with an 'M'? She can see into the future and only charged five cents?"

"I don't think that's the only reason, Adam," Hoss said grinning. "Millie's got a lot more goin' for her than that, ain't she Joe?"

"I can't believe you've both been with Millie and didn't tell me." Joe's face clouded with anger.

"Well, we didn't know you'd want to marry her or we would've," Adam said. "Besides, if you want to marry a woman whose name starts with an 'M', there's Mary Burgess and Melissa Taylor and…"

"And that Marilyn Worthington. Now that's who you should marry even if she is uglier than homemade soap! Her daddy's got all that money just waitin' to give to a son-in-law—to anyone who'll marry her." Hoss laughed and Adam chuckled as Joe darkened with anger.

"You two are funny. Go to hell, both of you but that woman's prediction for Hoss was right—at least one of them. She said that Hoss would be sick that night. Remember?"

"Oh, please," Adam said. "I told him that myself after he ate his third sack of those greasy, sugared doughnuts. That doesn't make me a fortune teller. But I can see the near future right now. We'll walk into the house and Pa will be smoking his pipe sitting by the fire and he'll say, 'About time you three got home.' "

"Yup," Hoss said. "Even I can tell that future."

"Ever heard about the Oracle at Delphi?" Adam asked?

No," Joe said. "What's that?"

"Probably another carnival fortune teller," Hoss said.

"In a way. It was a priestess who was supposedly inspired to see the future. People would ask questions of Apollo's priests at Delphi and they would ask the Oracle and she would babble some nonsense and the priests would translate her answer for the inquirer. Well, Alexander the Great went to the Oracle wanting to hear that he would conquer the world. He was turned away and told to come back later. Now you don't tell this to a man who intends to master all of the known world so Alexander burst into the temple and dragged the priestess out by her hair until she cried out screaming to be let go and then said that Alexander was unbeatable. So Alexander let her go and said that was all he wanted to hear-now he had his answer."

"So," Joe said, "Alexander the Great did conquer the world, didn't he? So what's the point of the story, Adam?"

"The point is that Alexander was determined to conquer the world no matter what the Oracle had said; she finally decided to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear and tell me this—if she was so good at telling the future, why didn't she know what Alexander was go to do to her, go ahead and tell him he would be a great conqueror and save herself the trouble of being dragged out by her hair? We're in charge of our own fate—no one else is so if you marry Millie, it'll be because you want a whore in your bed every night, not because her name starts with an 'M'. Now let's hurry up. We have an early day tomorrow."

Adam kicked his horse to go faster and Hoss and Joe followed suit. Adam hadn't thought of that day at the carnival in a long time and it made him oddly uncomfortable—even after all that time.


	3. Chapter 3

_It was the fall carnival and Adam and been put in charge of his two younger brothers. "Look Hoss," Adam said, "here's $5.00. Watch after Joe for me, would you?"_

 _"_ _Pa told you to keep an eye on 'im and make sure he don't get in no trouble. Don't pawn 'im off on me. 'Sides, he don't ever listen to me anyway." Hoss reached into the sack he held, the bottom dark from the grease from the fried pastries, and pulled out a warm doughnut, taking a bite. Crystals of sugar stuck to his lips._

 _Adam glanced to where Joe was pitching balls at rows of tin animals, trying to knock them down for a prize. "Please, Hoss. I'm supposed to meet Sandra Randall over by the entrance. Here." Adam peeled off another few bills. "Eat all you want and have a good time. Just watch over Joe."_

 _"_ _I told you—I ain't gonna watch 'im." Hoss ate another doughnut._

 _Adam sighed in frustration. "I'm too damn old to play Joe's nursemaid." Hoss shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, fine but the next time you want me to do you a favor, I won't."_

 _Joe, grinning from ear to ear, ran over to Adam and Hoss. "Look what I won!" Joe held up a celluloid doll with feathers glued to its molded hair._

 _"_ _Awww," Hoss said. "Joe done won himself a doll-baby."_

 _"_ _I knocked down ten ducks in a row," Joe said, "and it was either this or some cheap vase with an Indian head painted on it."_

 _"_ _Oh, so you took the expensive prize," Adam said. "Good choice. Look, Joe, if I gave you some money…"_

 _"_ _Look at that, Adam," Joe said, pointing. "A fortune teller. It says that she can tell your future. Let's go have our fortunes told."_

 _"_ _Why waste your money on that. I'll tell your fortune right now-I'm gonna give you two dollars and you and Hoss are going to have a good time, stay out of trouble and meet me at the gate at 9:00 sharp, okay?"_

 _"_ _Pa said you were supposed to watch me." Joe looked at Adam expectantly._

 _"_ _You're old enough to watch yourself. You're 13, for God's sake. Besides, you have Hoss."_

 _"_ _I told you, I ain't watchin' him. He's your problem, not mine."_

 _Adam sighed; he realized Sandra would have to wait until later "Fine. The fortune teller it is then. Maybe she'll tell me how to get rid of you two in the future."_

 _Hoss and Joe looked at each other and shrugged. The three brothers walked into the dark tent. Adam curled his lip at the sharp, honeyed smell of some herbal concoction burning in a small brazier. The fire made the space overly warm and Adam began to feel a bit light-headed—the sweet scent was heavy and thick. An old woman, birdlike and thin, sat at a round table, a deck of cards in front of her. A younger woman approached him as Joe and Hoss stood behind their brother—Joe's eyes wide; he was rethinking his choice of amusements._

 _"_ _You want your fortune told," the woman stated as a fact._

 _"_ _Not me," Adam said, "just my little brother here. He's the only one."_

 _"_ _I want mine told too," Hoss said. "Here's my nickel and one for Joe."_

 _"_ _Sit," the woman at the table said and both Hoss and Joe sat down. Adam refused a chair and stood near the tent flap. Every so often the wind would slightly raise the canvas and a rush of chilly, fresh air would come in and clear his head._

 _The Fortune-teller, Madam Tomescu, dealt the cards first for Joe. "You will have many women in love with you—always-and will marry a woman whose name starts with an 'M". She will give you many children. You will also be wealthy—you will sell land and I see trains running across it."_

 _"_ _Is that all?" Joe asked._

 _"_ _Another nickel will buy you more knowledge," the younger woman said._

 _Joe was torn; he hated spending more of his allotted money on a fortune-telling when there were more games of chance and skill waiting. And there was also the Egyptian Queen of the Nile-Cleopatra who danced the Dance of Love. Joe was building the courage to ask Adam to take him inside; he wanted to see what a dance of love would be like._

 _"_ _Nah, that's all right."_

 _"_ _Me now," Hoss said. He sat still and waited, watching as the old woman held the cards and then dealt them on the table. She looked them over._

 _"_ _For you, you will know a woman's love but never marry. You are a man of the land as your father is and will keep him company all his life and be a wealthy man yourself, living on the benefits of the earth"_

 _Adam felt as if he was suffocating, as if he couldn't catch his breath—the air seemed too dense to draw in his lungs—his throat closed up. He pushed open the tent flap and a gust of icy wind filled the tent making the candle light almost gutter out. He took a deep breath and released it. "Let's go," he told his brothers._

 _"_ _You—the dark one," Madame Tomescu said. "I know what lies ahead for you."_

 _Adam felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck and despite the cold wind he broke out in a sweat. "I'm not paying a nickel to hear some ridiculous fortune. I believe we make our own fate."_

 _"_ _Beware of black water. You will drown in it. Dark—so dark. I can't see more."_

 _The ground seemed to rise and fall, to undulate beneath his feet-Adam felt nausea rise. "Let's go," he managed to say and stepped outside. There with the cold air hitting him like a sledgehammer, the ground stopped seething and he felt more in touch with the world as the crisp air cleared his head. Hoss and Joe stepped out of the tent._

 _"_ _Adam?" Joe asked. "You think we could go see that Egyptian dancer—that Cleo…what's her name, Hoss?"_

 _"_ _Cleopatra. Think we can, Adam? Them pictures of her look mighty interestin'."_

 _"_ _Pa'd skin me alive if I took you two in there but I tell you what- I'll go in and tell you two all about it." Adam grinned, trying to feel normal again._

 _"_ _That's not fair!" Joe cried._

 _"_ _That's life, junior—get used to it." Adam laughed but he couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding, the shadow that had enveloped him when in the fortuneteller's tent._

 _"_ _C'mon, Adam," Hoss said. "Sneak us in!"_

 _"_ _Nope, but I tell you what. I bet each of you a nickel I can knock down more ducks in a row than either one of you. A nickel AND a candy apple."_

 _"_ _You're on," Hoss said and he and Joe took off for the booth._

 _Adam sighed and then followed. He told himself that there were no fortunetellers—no one could see into the future. No one. And he remembered the words from_ _ **Macbeth**_ _: "And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles to betray us in deepest consequence." Adam knew about half-truths that can be seductive and although he was a rational man believing in only what could be seen or touched, something about Macbeth's witches haunted him now as they had when he first read the play in college, had planted a seed and he couldn't shake the sense of dread that filled him. "Black water—beware. You will drown in it."_

 _"_ _Bullshit," Adam whispered to himself. Of course, Adam thought, he hadn't ponied up a nickel and the gypsy was angry so she gave him a dark prediction as a way of revenge. Of course—that was it! Just petty revenge but Madame Tomescu had underestimated him—he wasn't a fool. Adam breathed deeply of the fresh air and looked at all the people milling about. All was the same—nothing had changed. And Adam hurried to catch up with his two brothers._


	4. Chapter 4

Adam and Hoss rode slowly into the yard. It had been a long day of spring round-up and branding and Hoss shoulders and back were sore from throwing balky calves onto their sides and holding them down; his nostrils were still filled with the stench of singed fur and he knew he would hear the animals' protesting bellows even in his sleep. Adam's right shoulder was sore from roping and then securing the calves and he thought that this would be his last year; it was the circular motion of swinging the lasso that was becoming so painful. It made him wish he had a wife to rub liniment into his shoulder and that thought made him smile—he knew he was old when he wanted a wife for that comfort and not to pull under him at night.

It was just before dark—later than dusk but not quite night-and the lights were on in the bunkhouse a few hundred yards away; soft lamplight glowed in the windows of the ranch house while the evening chill began to surround them. Adam liked that time of night best. It always soothed him somehow and all the anxieties of the day seemed to melt away with the sun.

"I don't know why we always gotta stay later than the hands," Hoss said. He didn't expect an answer and he didn't receive one. Adam just dismounted and taking his horse's reins, led him into the barn where the youngest hand, 16 year old Miles was waiting, passing the time by flipping a knife into the soft floor. Hoss followed. Miles looked up and then jumped up when he saw it was Adam and Hoss.

"Rub 'em down and feed 'em," Adam said. "And make sure you do a good job; they've had a hard day. Once you're finished, go get your dinner—your day's over." The boy nodded, said, "Yes, sir," and began to unsaddle the animals.

Hoss and Adam left the barn and headed to the house.

"Noticed Cochise weren't there—guess Joe ain't back yet from Arizona."

"Yeah, I noticed." Adam said nothing more. They both knew that Joe had been due back from Rancho Verde over a week ago. The two hands who had accompanied him to deliver a seed bull had arrived home nine days ago and said that Joe had told them he was staying on with the Albright's for two more days but since he was so late, Adam had sent a telegram to Buster Albright, the owner of the ranch, requesting knowledge of Joe's actions—had Joe left yet? Had he indicated he wasn't heading straight home to the Ponderosa? The whole telegram had cost a buck fifty—a lengthier telegram than any of them had ever sent but Ben had wanted Adam to be specific without sounding too protective of his youngest.

Hoss sighed. "I hope Hop Sing's got somethin' good tonight—I'm starved." He sniffed, attempting to separate the mingled odors. The smell of peach pie was dominant as far as Hoss was concerned. "Peach pie for dessert. And…yup! Yeast rolls. Smell that? And fried yams…and…."

"Smells like roast lamb to me. I'd rather have a nice beef roast," Adam said. There was something about the taste of lamb that Adam didn't care for even when disguised with mint jelly. It wasn't gamey, it just tasted odd to him.

"Don't you worry none," Hoss said. "I'll eat your servin' as well."

"I just bet you will," Adam said but before they reached the porch, the door opened and their father, his arm in a sling, stood in the golden light pouring out into the increasing darkness. A week earlier Ben Cartwright had sprained his right shoulder when his horse slipped on a slab of rock and Ben went down, falling heavily on his side. Initially, he was more concerned about his horse and it was only when he tried to remount that he realized he couldn't use his arm without intense pain. Since then, he had worn the sling. Adam and Hoss had tried to talk Ben into going to see the doctor but Ben refused. "I've had more injuries than you can shake a stick at and always taken care of them myself. I don't need a doctor—Paul Martin can't tell me anything I don't already know. I didn't break my collarbone or my arm. Give me a week or two and I'll be fine with a little work to ease out the stiffness after." But he hadn't. Instead he had become worse, not even being able to sleep comfortably in bed but having to sleep sitting up. Finally he had allowed Paul Martin to be fetched and he was told he had a fractured collarbone and his shoulder joint had been jammed—hence the swelling and limitation of movement. He was to rest and place warm compresses on it. So Hop Sing would heat thick folded towels in the oven and have Ben hold them to his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Adam asked his father. It was obvious he was worried.

"I received this wire today." He handed it to Adam with his left hand..

They could have gone inside to read it but Adam opened the folded paper under the porch light and Hoss read over his shoulder but Adam read aloud anyway.

"To my knowledge, Joe headed home-departed six days ago. Draft for bull sent by wire. Inform if not received."

Both Adam and Hoss looked at their father.

"Aw, Pa," Hoss said, "I'm sure Joe's just fine. He's probably found some little heifer who paid him some attention and stayed around a few days. You know how Joe ss. Some skirt sashays in front of him and he's like a dog on a scent."

"I don't know," Ben said. "I just don't know. I swear that Joe will be the death of me. He'll worry me into an early grave. I knew I shouldn't have sent him." His face looked ashen in the porch light.

"Let's go eat," Adam said, putting a hand on his father's good shoulder and guiding him into the house. "Tomorrow—early tomorrow—Hoss and I'll head out to Arizona to look to find the 'lost child' but when we do find him, well, just don't be surprised if he looks like he was trampled by a herd of horses when we finally drag him in the house."

Hoss chuckled and Ben smiled but the smile quickly dropped away. He was worried about his unpredictable, mercurial youngest and could barely eat any dinner. And his dreams that night were troubled and when he awoke, although the sun soon rose, it seemed darker somehow, not as bright, not as warm as the preceding spring days had been.


	5. Chapter 5

Hoss and Adam took the route to the Rancho Verde in Arizona that Joe and the two hands who went with him had taken—the route ran parallel to a river that later broke up into smaller creeks which all finally emptied into the Rio Grande. It had been a bad winter with weeks of heavy snow and now that the snow was melting, the rivers were running, drowning some stock that waded in and found their legs knocked out from under them. It wasn't unusual to see a bloated steer floating along. The river even overflowed the banks in some areas, they were so overwhelmed with the melting snows. The route Joe had followed provided adequate waterholes, more hospitable terrain and quite a few small towns in which to buy any needed supplies, but Hoss and Adam were both aware that it was a vast area and also that Joe may have decided to travel home the same way. The brothers watched the sky for circling buzzards and were grateful when so far it had only been a downed antelope or another unfortunate creature on which the buzzards gorged.

Stopping in every town through which they passed, Adam asked questions of first the sheriff, if the town was large enough to have one, and then workers in restaurants and saloons while Hoss stood beside him, his thumbs hooked in his gun belt. Had a young man in his early 20's passed through heading north the last few days? Wild brown hair and green eyes—about 5'10''? Wearing a short, green jacket? One saloon girl said that she remembered him along with two other men but that was about three, four weeks ago and they were heading south; she had served them drinks while they listened to the piano and talked and laughed. "The pretty one" had tossed her a silver dollar before they left and winked-said that he would make a point of looking her up on his return trip. But, she had added, he hadn't been by—not that she really expected him to, she added—men tended to be all talk. She may not be all that old, she added and Adam gauged her to be around 23, but she'd been working since she was 14 and men, well, they say what they think a woman wants to hear but what she really likes to hear, she said, was the sound of money.

Adam also insisted though that they stop at the graveyards outside every town.

"Ain't that kinda ghoulish?" Hoss asked. "I mean lookin' to see iffen Joe's dead and buried outside one of these little towns."

"I want to look everywhere and I'm not reading crosses and tombstones hoping to see his name but hoping not to." Yet, Adam told Hoss, if Joe was dead, he might not be buried with his name so Adam looked for any and all freshly-dug graves. So far, no graves with the name of Joseph Cartwright, Joe, or "Unknown" had been lately dug.

Since it was March, the days weren't yet searing but were in the 70's—comfortable for traveling- with the nights cold, the temperature dropping down to the 30's, so the first thing they did when they stopped each night was to collect tinder for a cook fire. While Hoss built up the fire, Adam unpacked their dinner—canned beans and salt pork.

"We're going to have to buy some more food at the next town," Adam said. "All this stopping and asking questions in the towns is taking too long and with your appetite, we're almost out of beans."

"Out of beans? Don't 'spect me to cry 'bout that."

"Trust me, the less beans you eat, the happier my nose is."

"Oh, you're the funny one. If you'd brought along a pack mule like I wanted, we'd have more food with us and better."

"I told you—we need to travel fast and light."

"Your idea of travelin' light is for me to lose ten pounds on the way."

Adam smiled. "I'm thinking of your horse, that's all. You know," Adam said with a sigh, "maybe we should split up and instead of covering the swath together, you take the west strip and me, the east." Adam opened the can with his knife and emptied it into a frying pan with strips of dried salt pork.

"I don't think so," Hoss said. " 'Sides, if we come up against someone who knows 'bout Joe but ain't too forthcomin', well, you think you got the muscle to get what you want outta him?"

Adam grinned. "Maybe—just maybe." Adam stood up and stretched his back. "Damn, I don't look forward to another night out here. Next town we come to, I'm getting a room-as long as it's got clean sheets on the bed."

"Yeah," Hoss said as he wiped his fork on his shirt, cleaning it before he used it. "Would be nice if the bed also came with a full-breasted woman already tucked in it."

Adam chuckled as he squatted back down before the fire, stirring the food in the pan while he held the handle around which he had wrapped his bandana. "You know what?" Adam said. "Someone needs to make fry pans with wooden handles—they wouldn't get so damn hot."

"You do that, brother. Make yourself a coupla thousand dollars that you can hide with all the other money you make."

"I just might-and my money's not hidden—it's invested and making a profit." And they settled down to share their dinner.

"We'll be at Rancho Verde in two days," Hoss said as he ate. "What if we ain't found Joe by then?"

Adam thought before responding. "We take the next possible route Joe might have used—swing west and go through Tempe."

"Tempe?"

"Yeah, maybe he headed home that way. Remember when you and I went there two year's last winter and Joe pissed and moaned and pouted for a month because he couldn't come along?"

Hoss chuckled. "Yeah, I 'member. And Joe asked if we'd brought 'im back anything and when you said no, he said he'd bring somethin' back if he'd gone along and you said, 'Yeah, a case of clap.' "

Adam grinned. "Pa didn't think that was funny, probably because there was more truth there than he'd like to admit. Anyway, Joe might have decided to visit Tempe by himself. We'll go that way back if we don't find him on the way down. And we'll send a wire telling Pa and ask if Joe's home yet."

Hoss nodded in agreement and the brothers finished their meal in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

~0~

"This shithole's got a helluva nerve callin' itself a town," Hoss said as he and Adam rode into a small grouping of buildings that stood alongside a dirt street with only a few cross streets. They had passed a sign that said "Welcome to the Town of Waterside" but there was no water nor grass except for a few patches and not much else. The paint was peeling off all he buildings and the signs outside n businesses were faded. Two skinny dogs sniffed along the main street and Adam pulled up his horse in front of what appeared to be the only saloon in town.

"I could use a beer," Adam said as he dismounted and looked around the quiet street. No one was out and about but the saloon was open or Adam would have thought it was a ghost town.

"I could use about four—maybe five beers," Hoss said as he looped his horse's reins over a hitching rail.

The saloon was practically empty. Two men seemed to be playing a half-hearted game of cards; they glanced at the door when Hoss stepped in followed by Adam. The bartender, leaning sleepily on the bar, his drowsy head propped up with one hand, reluctantly stood up when he saw prospective patrons.

"Two beers," Adam said, propping one foot on the copper rail that ran along the bottom of the bar.

The bartender nodded and drew two mugs of beer placing them in front of the men. Adam put down two bits and the bartender quickly swooped on the coins, dropping them in his apron pocket. Then he went to sit on a stool at one end of the counter.

Hoss took a swig of his beer and made a sour face. "Damn, this is 'bout the worst beer I done ever tasted. Must be horse piss—warm as piss too." He slammed his mug on the counter top. "Warm as blood too."

Adam sipped his beer and recoiled. "This is bad." He turned his head and spat on the wood floor.

"Hey, mister, use the damn spittoon."

"Tastes like you serve the contents of your spittoons as beer. This is…disgusting stuff."

"It's already drawn so I ain't givin' you back the money. Man's gotta make a livin'."

"Fine," Adam said. "I don't begrudge a man earning a decent wage. What else you have to drink?" Adam glanced at the shelves behind the bartender, recognizing a brand of Irish whiskey. "Give us each a shot of that." Adam pointed to a dusty bottle on the shelf.

The bartender looked behind him and then nodded. He put down two glasses and then reached under the counter.

"No," Adam said. "Open that one on the shelf."

"I got an open bottle down here." He held up a bottle of the same brand of whiskey. Hoss looked at Adam with a hint of admiration; Adam knew that the whiskey from under the counter wasn't the same brand as the bottle—and it was probably watered at that.

"No. Not from that one—the one on the shelf and if it's any good, I'll buy the bottle."

"Cost you five dollars?" the bartender said although it was really a question.

"Fine. Now get it and pour us each a drink. Have one for yourself as well."

"Yes, sir." The bartender smiled and moved quickly to retrieve the dusty bottle that must have been collecting dust for over a year if not longer.

Adam and Hoss exchanged glances—Hoss knew that Adam had now made a friend of the bartender and loosened his tongue with the one drink.

"So," Hoss said after he downed his whiskey, "how come this town's called Waterside? Someone's idea of a joke?" He placed his glass down and nodded at the bartender who poured him another drink while he sipped at his.

"Used to be a good-sized creek ran 'side the place but someone north upriver must've damned it or blown it up with dynamite or somethin' to change the course. Ain't nothin' left now but a creek bed but maybe it's all for the best."

"Why's that?" Adam asked as he poured both himself and Hoss another glass of the whiskey.

"Well, at least we ain't had no women killed her like they done in some of the town's around here over the last few years—all them women and girls were left in the water—strange the way it was—their upper bodies in the water—their lower part on the bank. Sad, real sad—not that I've seen any of them but a drummer come through about two, three weeks ago and told me that south of here, some women had been killed round Mule's Pass—left in the water the same way as in the other towns."

Adam stopped breathing; the world began to swirl about him like water. His throat closed up as against smoke trying to fill his lungs—or water.

"Adam?" Hoss asked. Adam was gripping his whiskey glass; he had gone pale. 'What's wrong?"

The bartender became defensive. "Must be the heat 'cause it ain't my whiskey. That's the best bottle of whiskey I have—or had. It's been hotter than usual for this time of year—gets to you, you know. Hey, mister—you okay?"

Hoss reached out and touched Adam's arm. Adam looked at Hoss as if just noticing he was there. "I'm sitting down," he said pulling his arm away. "Ask him about Joe." Adam almost lurched to the nearest table and dropped down in a chair trying to control the memory that gripped him—his ears ringing.


	6. Chapter 6

_"_ _Pa, Pa, come quick!" Adam was unsure of what it was, who it was, that he was seeing but when he dismounted and approached, he was shocked—and sickened. It was little Amy Forrester—Adam knew her as one of the girls who followed around Joe as if he was some adolescent Adonis. Adam had given Amy a ride home a few times when he had fetched Joe from the school house and she had been a lively girl—but this corpse floating in the water, this white specter with the bare budding breasts, with the pure expression and with hair that moved in the water like a mermaid's—this was an otherworldly creature and Adam dropped down to his knees close to the body. His breath was ragged and he struggled to control his emotions; he wanted to cry and to rage against the heavens for allowing such a senseless and cruel act._

 _Adam Cartwright was 24. He had seen dead men—even killed two himself when faced with no other option so it wasn't so much that it was a corpse that partially lay in the creek. Adam had also known more than one woman and was familiar with the curves that lay under all the female clothing and he had seen and kissed and caressed the smooth, ivory skin of a woman—had also seen many shows in San Francisco where performers good-naturedly, teasingly, bared themselves while they danced but this sight shook him to the core as nothing else he had ever seen had._

 _"_ _Holy Mother of God," Ben Cartwright whispered as he stood behind his son. "Holy Jesus!" He walked closer to the prone body. "Do you have any idea who she…"_

 _"_ _Her name is Amy. She's Joe's age. Just a sweet, young girl. Her family lives about two miles from the school—I've taken her home a few times with Joe." Adam sucked in his breath as he looked at the body again. There were ligature marks about her neck—a rope had been used-and there were various bruises on her thighs and arms. Adam stood up and Ben Cartwright bent over to pull the body from the water but Adam reached out and stopped his father. "I don't think you should touch her until after Sheriff Coffee sees her. He'll need to know how she's…"_

 _"_ _But, Adam, we can't just leave her here like that. It's…obscene. And she's so young…and lying there like that. It mean out of decency itself we should…"_

 _"_ _I just think you should leave her alone until Roy sees her." Adam unsteadily walked to his horse and began to unsaddle it._

 _"_ _What are you doing?" Ben asked. He was shaken by the discovery of the body and having trouble concentrating. All he wanted was to pull the body from the water as he would his own child in such a state._

 _Adam pulled the saddle off his horse and dropped it on the ground, freeing the saddle blanket. He walked over to the body and spread the small blanket over her breasts and her lower abdomen. Ben nodded in approval._

 _"_ _You stay with her," Ben said._

 _"_ _Me? Why not you, Pa? I'll go for Roy."_

 _"_ _No. I'll go fetch Roy and you stay here—keep animals away from her. I'll stop by the house and have Hop Sing bring out a buggy to take her to town after Roy checks out the scene; I don't want Joe to find out about this, at least not yet. And Roy can be the one to tell her parents." Ben glanced once more time at the body and he shook his head in despair at the cruel ways of the world._

 _Adam reluctantly agreed and when his father left, Adam sat back down near the body but turned his back to it. He couldn't look at it anymore because he knew that if he did, young Amy would rise up at night while he slept and haunt him-and she did-but not just while he slept; he found himself anticipating her presence around every corner he turned for the next few months, to see her calm, almost beatific expression on every female he saw. And the next Sunday in church he glanced at one of the stained glass windows and there was Amy Forsyth's face on the image of the Madonna, rays of divine love emanating from her outstretched hands. But as time passed and Adam began to feel safe from her ghost disturbing his peace of mind, another woman was found killed in the same manner and Adam inwardly shook with dread.. And then there was another and a month later, another and no one knew what monster crept about taking their lives and people wondered who would be next.._

Hoss slammed the whiskey bottle and two glasses on the tabletop.

"Here—you need another drink—and so do I." He poured both of them more whiskey. "Listen to this, Adam." Hoss swallowed his whole drink and quickly poured himself another. "Bartender told me that they got the killer of those women locked up over in Mule's Pass—a stranger—a young stranger riding a paint. Seems they wanta string him up for the murder of three women who done been killed in the past three months and all of them left in the water round there. I think it's little brother they got locked up over there and just waitin' to lynch, that is iffen they ain't already done it afore we get there."

Adam sipped his whiskey, his mind working. Then he put down the glass and stood. "Let's head for Mule's Pass."

"Fine by me. I can't get there fast enough."

Adam corked the bottle and then grabbed it by the neck. As he passed the bar, he reached in his pocket, looked at the coins in his palm and then slapped them on the counter.

"You come back," the bartender said, scooping up the coins as Adam and Hoss strode out. Strange men, he thought, buy they bought his show bottle of Irish whiskey and he did make money off them. But they were odd.

 **~0~**

Mule's Pass was larger, busier than Waterside, bragging three saloons in the west end of town. And there on the left side of the street was the sheriff's office.

Hoss was in a foul mood. He wished that Adam had just kept his thoughts to himself as they had ridden the rest of the day and the night to reach the town of Mule's Pass. Now he was disturbed and couldn't get that image of Amy Forsyth out of his mind. Damn that Adam! Always makin' a man look straight at truths and not blink—always showing the ugly side of life—shoving it in your face.

It had been a dark night—seemed to be darker to Hoss than any other night when there was no moon out—and Adam had started talking. Up to that point they had been silent except for stopping once to make some coffee and rest the horses. Even then, Adam hadn't really talked but Hoss was used to that, familiar with Adam's tendency for contemplation. But this time Hoss wished Adam had kept his "contemplations" to himself.

"You remember Amy Forsyth? The girl Pa and I found dead about 9 years past?" They rode at an easy canter.

"Yeah, I remember but I try not to-memories like that ruin your sleep. I drove the buckboard to the creek-brought them blankets Pa tol' me too. Why you thinkin' of her?"

"How was she lying?"

Hoss felt a chill run through him. His heart beat loudly for a few seconds before he hoarsely answered. "Half in and half out the water."

"That's right. And how about the woman Joe's accused of killing?"

"Half in and…. We don't know that it's Joe they got locked up there, right? I mean just 'cause it sounded like it might be…. Ain't you always saying that no one knows anything unless they see it with their own eyes and even then you better still be careful? So how come you're sure' it's Joe?" Hoss wanted Adam to comfort him somehow, to be his usual logical self and say like his always did not to jump to conclusions.

Adam gave Hoss a withering look. "Some things a person does know when all the pieces fit. Little Joe and a woman—complementary elements. A stranger passing through—Joe's traveling alone and he's never been this way before—a stranger to these parts. And then there's the paint pony. It's Joe." They were silent for a few heart beats. "Hoss, did you notice anything odd about those graveyards we visited along the trail? Anything out of the ordinary about the graves?"

"Damn it, Adam, don't play no guessin' games with me—just tell me whatever the hell it is you're thinkin'."

"Well if you were a bit more observant, look _at_ things instead of just over them, you'd have noticed too. Each one had recent—and by recent I mean within the last two years or so according to the dates—a spate of women's graves, each one about a month apart. Seven of them. Each one had seven graves of women."

"Women die just as much as men do—if not even more with all they got to deal with out here."

"I'm not talking about those who died in childbirth or of the fever—those facts are usually on the markers. I read on two tombstones in Rio Blanco that two girls' lives—they were sisters-that their lives were stolen — those were the exact words they used. One girl was 15, the other 18. They died a month from each other almost to the day."

"You sayin' that those girls, those women killed in Virginia City—what? Nine years ago?-are by the same person who did those?"

"I'm just saying that they have elements in common, that's all. There are just too many similarities. I don't believe in that many coincidences."

Hoss glanced at Adam who pulled out the whiskey bottle he had tucked in his jacket pocket and drained it. He had been taking swigs of it all night. Adam looked at the empty bottle and then tossed it aside and Hoss heard the hollow thud of emptiness as it hit the ground.

When it came to drinking, to becoming drunk, Adam was a mystery to Hoss. Most men slurred their words or became mean or overly sloppy and relived all the emotional tragedies of their pathetic lives. But not Adam. He just became quieter and darker than usual while the fire ran through his veins. Hoss avoided his brother when he was in that rare state, rare since Adam seldom drank to excess-because Hoss sensed that his oldest brother became a dangerous man when his senses were either sharpened or dulled by alcohol—Hoss was never sure which it was. And if Adam suffered hangovers, the crushing headache and nausea that was a companion to excess, he never showed it, just went about his day's work. Hoss had a grudging admiration for his oldest brother, so intelligent, so clever and knowledgeable and so able to control himself—at least so far.

When Hoss was 12 and Adam 17, the two brothers had watched an archery competition on a Founder's Day. The archers, many of them ranch hands and young men from the area who figured that since ignorant Indians could use a weapon like that, well, any white man who everyone knew was superior to an Indian any day he took a breath, could use a bow and arrow with accuracy. They found it wasn't necessarily true and their arrows missed the padded target set up a few yards away and landed in the ground or just dropped to the grass after losing momentum. Two contestants had earlier lost a strip of pale skin off the inside of their left arms above the wrist to the bowstring.

Hoss and Adam had stood together and watched, Adam with a sarcastic grin, his arms crossed, Hoss eating a freshly-made funnel cake.

"Think you could do that?" Hoss asked as he chewed.

"Maybe. They're not aiming correctly."

"How do you know?" Hoss asked.

Adam turned to look at him and Hoss knew that look—it meant he had just said something stupid.

"Because they're missing the target."

Hoss sighed. "Well, I know that but they's aimin' at the target."

"You ever watch an arrow fly? I mean actually watch the trajectory?"

Hiss wasn't sure what "trajectory" was but knew he hadn't watched it. "No, but I guess you have."

"Actually, I have. White Elk taught me how to shoot and although he didn't know the physics of an arrow, what happens when it's released from the bow, he did know it doesn't fly as straight as a bullet. That's what everyone thinks and that's why they miss. It actually wiggles side to side as it flies and drops slightly—it's the feathers that keep the arrow going straight for a longer distance; they're not there just for decoration. You have to counter the drop by aiming slightly higher than you would a gun—a bullet doesn't lose trajectory as quickly as an arrow does. They don't realize it."

"I tell you what," Hoss said as he licked the sugar off his fingers and balled up the brown, greasy paper that had held the funnel cake, "ifen you hit the target, Mr. Know-it-all, I'll do your chores as well as mine next week. If you miss, you do mine." Hoss emphasized by pointing his thumb at himself.

"Deal." Adam walked over and paid the small entry fee and took up the proffered bow and arrow. There were a few hoots from the crowd from Judson Brink's friends. Judson was just about to be declared the winner as he had come closest to hitting the bull's-eye and scoffed when young Adam Cartwright stepped up. The men considered Adam just a kid still wet behind the ears but he carried himself as if he thought he was better than everyone else and that put off many. But Adam seemed not to hear any of it or see any of it and Hoss felt proud of his brother even though he still wanted him to lose; Hoss didn't want to have to do Adam's chores.

Finally silence fell as people waited. Adam had Hoss wrap his bandana about the area between his left wrist and elbow and then Adam nocked the arrow and drew back the bowstring. Hoss watching, saw the muscles tense on Adam's arms—his right arm starting to quiver as he waited for the exact moment to release the string. And then it happened and the arrow flew with a "shoosh" through the air and with a "thuck", sunk in closest to the center of the padded bulls-eye.

Clapping broke out and Adam turned to Hoss who shook his head, admitting defeat, but also clapped for Adam's success. Hoss stood by and watched the men congratulate Adam who, to Hoss, didn't seem that comfortable with his victory. But it was from that experience that Hoss came to think of Adam as a taut bowstring just waiting to let loose a deadly arrow. And when that happened, Hoss dreaded who would be the target.


	7. Chapter 7

The Cartwright brothers tied off their horses in front of the sheriff's office. Passersby looked at them suspiciously.

"None too friendly-lookin," Hoss said as he stood on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips.

"Well," Adam said, "you can't blame them for being wary of strangers considering what's happened. Let's go see the sheriff." He settled his hat and walked into the office, Hoss following.

"Help you boys?" A man with a plain tin badge on his leather vest sat behind a desk, leaning the chair on its two legs, against the wall, a shotgun across his thighs.

Adam tucked his hands under his arm pits. He wanted to make it obvious he wasn't going to pull a gun.

"My name's Adam Cartwright. That's my brother, Hoss," he said motioning with his head, "and I believe you may have our younger brother, Joe Cartwright, in your jail." Adam looked at the bolted double-doors that led to the cells.

The man just sat and stared at them, looking first from Adam to Hoss and then back to Adam. He dropped the chair onto four legs, leaned over and spit a stream of vile brown juice into the spittoon beside the desk.

Adam and Hoss waited, Adam's lips pursed. He looked at the nameplate on the desk. "Are you Sheriff Murphy?"

The man leaned back in the chair again. "Maybe I am and maybe I ain't. What's it to you?"

"Look," Adam said, pulling out his hands for gesturing but the man with the badge jumped up from the chair and held the shotgun on Adam and Hoss. Both brothers held their hands shoulder height—palms outward.

"Now back up," the man said. "I'd as soon shoot you as look at you, 'specially if you're brothers of that goddamn, murdering sonovabitch in the cell back there."

"Now look. Mister…" Hoss started to approach the desk. The man jacked the rifle. Hoss backed off a step and remained quiet.

"If it's…permissible, we would like to talk to our brother—just to find out why he was arrested…Sheriff." Adam tucked his hands under his arms again.

"Nope. You can't see him 'less the High Sheriff says you can."

"And you're not he."

"Nope. But right now," the man said, waving the end of the shotgun toward the front door, "I'd suggest you leave. Now."

Adam turned to look at Hoss, raising his brows. "Fine. Can you tell me when the…High Sheriff will return?"

"Nope."

"Can you give me an approximation?" The man stared at him blankly. "Will he be back in an hour perhaps? Two Hours? Tomorrow morning? Did he go home for dinner? Run away to join a passing carnival to take your place as the human jackass? What?"

Hoss suppressed a smile.

"Look, mister, I don't like you none. Get out afore I lock you up as well for having a smart-ass mouth. Got it?"

"Yeah. I got it." Adam turned and he and Hoss walked out to stand on the wooden sidewalk in front. They glanced up and down the street. It seemed liked an ordinary town populating those parts but the men sitting outside establishments or riding in the streets stared at the unknown men.

"I say we break Joe out," Hoss said glancing unto the alleyway beside the jail. "Hell, Adam, it's just that deputy. I could take him easy. Then we just haul ass back home. We'd be out of the jurisdiction in no time. What about it?"

Adam rubbed his earlobe—it helped him think. He sighed. "No. If they caught up with us, sent a wire to all the surrounding areas…we have quite a way to go, you know-and if we're caught, hell, they'd string up all three of us. Not worth the risk."

"I'm willin' to take the risk."

"Hoss, why do you always bet against the odds?"

" "Cause if you win, the poke is higher."

"And if you lose, you lose it all."

"But, Adam, we might make it. Get Joe's horse outta the livery or wherever they got Cochise and then wait until evening and break out Joe. I think we could do it."

Adam didn't reply, only looked about the street again and adjusted the brim of his hat. "Let's go get a beer," Adam said and without waiting for Hoss, he strolled in the direction of the Red Dog Saloon.

~ 0 ~

Hoss sat at a table watching Adam play poker on the adjacent one. The stakes were small and Hoss watched Adam intentionally lose one hand after another to one man as the other players did until everyone else had thrown in their cards and left the table.

"How about another hand," the man said as he raked in the small pile of money. He was about 40 with a purple knife scar across one cheek. Adam decided it was probably a souvenir from a sore loser. For all the time Adam had played, that man had won almost every hand—only losing two when he tossed in his cards without much of an ante. Hoss suspected and he knew Adam did as well, that the man was a traveling cardsharp who was probably so well known in the larger cities and saloons that he now made his living in small jerkwater towns.

"I don't think so," Adam replied. "I'm almost pure broke but I have enough for two drinks. Whiskey?" The cardsharp who had introduced himself as John Madison—"No relation to that president," he had joked and Adam wondered how many times the man had made the small joke-nodded so Adam held up his empty whiskey glass and two fingers. The bartender brought two full glasses and Adam flipped him the coins in payment.

The men sipped in silence. "So," Madison asked. "He your muscle?" He moved his head in Hoss' direction.

Adam chuckled. "No, he's my brother," Adam paused before continuing. "You been in this town long?"

"No. Almost a month. It's about time for me to move on. Why?" He was becoming suspicious. This man who had introduced himself as 'Adam' had been a gracious loser during the game but there was something edgy below the surface. Madison suddenly became concerned that 'Adam' wanted his money back, that one of them had noticed his dealing off the bottom of the deck when needed and he didn't want a matching scar—at least that's the best he could hope for. His scar had come in an attempt to cut off one of his ears but he had managed to jerk back and the knife had only caught the side of his face and cheek. And the dark-haired one made him especially leery. "Well? Why do you want to know?"

Adam slowly shook his head. "Just wondered if you'd heard the latest news. Heard someone's locked up in the jail for murder."

"Yeah," Hoss sad. "We heard he killed a woman. My brother here and me, well, we don't take much to anyone who does harm to women or children."

"Well, I had nothing to do with it." Madison threw both hands in the air.

"Ain't no one said you did," Hoss said. "We just wanted to hear it from someone who weren't from here. You know how people get when they tell a story 'bout someone they know—they kinds slant the truth but you, bein' a stranger and all. Well, you'd have a good unbiased way of tellin' it."

"That's right," Adam said and smiled, holding his whiskey and leaning back in his chair. "We just want to hear the news."

Madison looked back and forth from Hoss to Adam. "All right. Not much news about it 'cept people have been mumbling about savin' a trial, not waiting for the circuit judge and just stringing him up themselves."

"Stringing who up?" Adam asked. He looked at the table top after he put down his glass. There were random marks and a few carvings of initials among the water stains.

"Well, some kid was passin' through, at least I heard that's what he claimed, when he met some girl and, well, he forced himself on her and then when she fought, he strangled her and tried to throw her body in the creek—it's runnin' fast now but apparently the body didn't wash away so he was carryin' it when the doctor who was drivin' in from deliverin' a baby, caught him red-handed. That man—really a kid like I said-was holdin' her body while on his horse—a black paint pony. The doc said he'd take the body in and then the kid took off. From what I saw when they brought that poor girl's body in, half her clothes were ripped off. The sheriff caught the killer outside of town a ways and brought 'im in. The crowd wanted to drag him behind a horse, then, when he was all torn up from that, slowly string 'im up—no hangman's knot—just let him suffocate, kickin' his last. It was all the sheriff could do to keep 'em away. Anyway, that's all I know." He looked quickly from Adam to Hoss and back again.

"I appreciate the information," Adam said.

"Yeah, well…" Madison rose. "It's about time I move on." He paused expecting Adam to ask for his losses back but neither brother said anything so James Madison drained his whiskey glass, coughed, and quickly left the saloon. He would head for New Mexico before the weather turned too hot. That's what he'd do, he decided. He wanted more than anything to leave Mule's Pass behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

"As they say in the Good Book, 'Seek and ye shall find.' I came lookin' for you two boys. My deputy says that you came askin' to see my prisoner."

"Sheriff Murphy, correct?" Adam asked.

"That's right and you claim to be brothers of my prisoner." Sheriff Murphy was a big man—almost as tall as Hoss and always as large in girth but he carried himself with confidence and an air of authority, his hand resting on his sidearm.

"I'm Adam Cartwright and this is my brother, Hoss. Our brother Joe was expected back a little over two weeks now and when he didn't show, well, we decided to see what held him up."

"Worried about your baby brother, huh?" The sheriff rocked on his heels, enjoying taunting the two men. He was aware of all the times that people who passed through denigrated his town and the yokels who peopled it and although he decided not to mention it, he was aware of the Cartwright family. He had lived in Carson City about 20 years ago and when inadvertently passing through the Ponderosa on his way south, had guns pulled on him by ranch hands and told to go around the huge piece of property. So he had obliged, not willingly but out of respect for the weapons and he didn't care for the feeling at all. So once he was voted sheriff of Mule's Pass, he was surprised at how little actually intimidated him. And now, what went around came around and he had the Cartwrights by the bollocks on his property, his town. He considered tossing the two men in jail with their brother just because he could. But being basically a decent man, Sheriff Murphy decided to listen—and then he would allow them to speak to the prisoner and then he would watch them and if they did anything suspicious, they'd end o up in a cell alongside their brother.

Hoss ducked his head. He had noticed Adam's jaw muscles working and hoped that his brother would stay calm as he usually did. But you never knew with Adam. But then, if they were tossed in jail, at least they'd be able to see Joe. Fortunately, Adam smiled. Unfortunately it wasn't a particularly friendly smile.

"Well, he's young and tends to be impulsive," Adam said. "Somehow, he manages to get himself in trouble—always in the wrong place at the wrong time. You know the type—always seems to draw trouble like a magnet does metal."

Sheriff Murphy smiled but said nothing.

"So if you have our brother in jail…'may' we see him?"

"Well, since you asked so pretty, I guess you can. You go ahead of me." Sheriff Murphy stepped aside and after confirming with one another by simply a look, Adam and then Hoss sauntered across the street and down the sidewalk to the jail. Adam was aware of the sheriff following them, heard his confident step behind Hoss' but he was determined not to look back. But he did notice the people on the street seemed to take an inordinate interest in the 'parade' passing by.

~ 0 ~

"I swear to you, Adam, I tried to explain what happened and they listened but I still got arrested. They're going to hang me." Joe's eyes welled up.

"Joe, don't presume they're going to hang you—and besides, they haven't yet, right? You haven't had a trial." Adam gripped Joe on the shoulder, trying to provide comfort, to give him hope that all would be resolved in his favor but he wasn't so sure himself. "Who's your lawyer?" Adam asked.

Hoss leaned against the cell wall watching and listening. He had heard the whole story now from Joe's lips—Joe had seen a pretty, young thing, just as Hoss had suspected his little brother had, and fallen in love. That was like Joe. She was a pure beauty and not only that, but her name was Melora—it started with an "M." Joe had stated that it seemed fated after what he heard at the carnival all those years ago—and they fell in love at first sight. She had golden hair and the face of an angel and the spirit too. He wanted to marry her and she introduced him to her family—her father and sister-and they seemed to approve but with her being only sixteen, her father wasn't ready to let her go. Hoss was surprised that Adam had listened to it all and not once made a snide remark about gullibility or stupidity on Joe's part.

"My lawyer? Some horse's ass who basically says that I should throw myself on the mercy of the court and pray for the best. Adam, they wouldn't even let me send a wire home."

"Okay, Joe. Now let me go through this again and you tell me if I have anything wrong." Joe nodded. "Okay, you met this…young lady, Melora Rigby, at a street dance the first night you were passing through Mule's Pass on your way home, right?" Joe nodded. "Okay. You walked her home that night and then you asked to see her again and she said yes—invited you for dinner the next night."

"That's right. She was so pretty Adam, and sweet—the sweetest girl I've ever met. And she loved me—swore she did." Joe said wistfully. "And I loved her. She had golden, blonde hair and light blue eyes. She was so pretty."

"Yes—you've said that. Now pay attention. You saw her as often as you two could see each other- and the two of you decided to get married. She snuck out to meet you, said that she'd be about a half mile from the creek by her house. You headed there and it was then you found her dead and partially in the creek. You were bringing her in to Mules' Pass when the town doctor saw you and the two of you brought her in together, right? He didn't bring her in alone and you didn't take off?"

"No, I told you. We both brought her in. He put her body in the back of the buckboard—I put my jacket over her 'cause, well…her clothes were almost all gone—probably thrown in the water. I saw part of her dress caught on a branch of an overhanging tree and she…" Joe broke down and sobbed. Hoss moved and sat on the other side of Joe, put his arm around his brother and looked over Joe's bowed head at Adam.

"Joe, hold yourself together until we're through. Please," Adam said quietly.

"But she's dead, Adam, and it was horrible to see. You have no idea what it was like…"

"He's got an idea, Joe. Trust him—he's got an idea of what it looked like." Hoss looked again at Adam and that day they found Amy Forrester came back—their shared memory of Amy's body lying helpless—and although Hoss only saw her limp body after Adam had partially covered her, he knew that Adam was remembering the same thing-the same image haunted them both. But it had been worse for Adam—that Hoss knew.

 _Adam heard the buckboard coming and stood up, relieved. He walked to meet it but instead of seeing the furrowed brow of Hop Sing, it was Hoss driving the team of horses. Adam reached out for the reins to stop the horses from going any further._

 _"_ _Hop Sing was supposed to come—why you?"_

 _"_ _Oh, Joe got a belly-ache so Hop Sing stayed home to dose 'im. He tol' me to bring out the buckboard and some blankets. What happened?" Hoss craned his neck but couldn't quite make out what was beyond his brother._

 _"_ _Nothing you need to see."_

 _"_ _Adam, what the hell's wrong with you? I'm 17 for God's sake. I ain't no kid. Looks like…" Hoss jumped down from the wagon after locking the brake and walked around Adam to get a closer look. "Oh, hell." He turned but Adam still had his back to the sight. "Adam, who is it?"_

 _"_ _Amy Forrester" he replied in a hush. "Little Amy Forrester."_

 _"_ _What happened?"_

 _Adam just shook his head. Hoss looked around and saw Adam's unsaddled horse and then realized that it was the mount's saddle blanket that partially covered the small body. He walked to the back of the buckboard to retrieve the blankets he had brought._

 _"_ _Don't you think we should pull 'er from the water?" Hoss asked, holding the multi-colored Indian blankets._

 _"_ _Not until Sheriff Coffee gets here."_

 _"_ _Why? What difference would it make? I mean if someone else found 'er, they'd take 'er body in? Why can't we just do it?"_

 _"_ _Because Roy should see…in case it's important-the way she was left. It's odd to leave someone that way. I mean if he wanted to dump her in the water, he would have—she's not that heavy. Whoever it was wanted her found this way…it's on purpose."_

 _Hoss paused. He saw the reasoning but his instincts told him that it was disrespectful to leave her. "Well, we should cover 'er up, shouldn't we? I mean your saddle blanket ain't that big and the water's moved it a ways off her."_

 _Adam glanced at the body and saw Hoss was correct. He nodded to Hoss and the two started toward the body but after a few steps, Hoss stopped and looked down_

 _"_ _I can't, Adam. I can't do it. I can't look at 'er."_

 _Adam said nothing, just took the blankets from his brother and went to Amy's body. He pulled off the saddle blanket that was now soaked and heavy, tossing it aside, and draped one unfolded blanket over her, covering her face last. The other one he saved to wrap the body in for transport. Then he stepped back from the sight._

 _Hoss heard a deep shuddering sound come from his older brother as if he were about to cry. He had never, ever heard his brother cry—not even when the young Adam was tanned—not even when he had broken his arm or split his lip open. And Adam had never openly displayed grief to this degree so why now, why over this young girl whom he barely knew? And when Adam turned and dropped down to the ground again, Hoss was at a loss. So he did what he always did when he saw anyone or anything in pain, he went over and sat down beside Adam and reached out to put an arm around his brother's shoulders and they sat in silence until Roy Coffee showed up._

"She had family, right?" Adam asked.

Joe nodded. "A father and sister." He rubbed his face to stop his tears and sat back up straight.

"Why didn't you take her home?"

"Well, because of the way she looked. I mean she had been strangled and, well, it looked like she had been…she had been. I didn't want her family to see her like that. Besides, Mr. Rigby doesn't like me and he would have accused me of doing it. I knew that, so I thought I'd bring her into town, take her to the doc's and then get the sheriff. I know Doc Branson, I met him once at the Rigby's, so I thought he could see that I hadn't done it—that I didn't act like a man who'd just killed someone, especially someone he loved. I mean if I'd done it, I would've just left her. But the doctor told me to fetch Mr. Rigby so I left to get him but the sheriff caught me—I got a little lost, wandered around a bit and I he said I was running away. He took my gun and arrested me."

"So you don't think Mr. Rigby would speak up for you? Say you loved his daughter, that you were sincere and wouldn't hurt her?"

"I don't know," Joe said. "Her father…I just don't know but maybe her sister."

The sheriff came to the cell. "Time's up, boys." He unlocked the cell door and pulling his side arm, stepped back to allow Adam and Hoss to pass.

The three Cartwright brothers stood up together.

"What's your lawyer's name?" Adam asked as he turned his hat in his hands.

"Amos Spencer."

"Sit tight, Joe," Adam said and put on his hat. He winked at his brother and Joe gave a small, wan smile in response.

"Be back tomorrow, Joe," Hoss said, slapping Joe on the shoulder.

And after his two brothers left, Joe had never felt so alone before in his 22 years. He didn't feel like a man but like a scared kid. He wanted his big brothers to defend him from all the bullies of the world as they had when they were young. He dropped back down on his cot, lay back and stared at the ceiling until eventually he fell into an uneasy sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

"If that don't beat all—only one lawyer in this whole dang town," Hoss said as they headed to the Rigby place.

Adam shook his head. "Well, like the sheriff said, other than the women being killed recently, not much happens. But I can't help wondering, since the circuit judge only comes by every two months, if the sheriff and his deputy don't dole out most justice themselves."

"You mean take 'em out back and shoot any wrongdoers?"

"Not drunks or some petty criminal but if Sheriff Murphy felt Joe needed to be hanged immediately, if he feared Joe might get off for some reason, well, all he'd have to do is release Joe—say there's not enough evidence to hold him and Joe would be dead within the hour—strung up somewhere—and the sheriff's hands are clean. Pull in a few people who of course know nothing about the situation and that's it—end of investigation—'Must've just been a stranger passing through who strung him up'."

"Yeah. I see what you mean. So I guess in a way, the sheriff done us a favor and kept Joe alive."

"For a time, yes. But I don't think, after meeting Amos Spencer, Esquire that Joe's going to get much help from him. Granted, Joe's not being charged with the two previous killings but Spenser could at least arrive at a defense stating that Joe wouldn't head back to town carrying his own victim. That makes no sense. Even, as Spencer said, the sheriff postulates that it was to throw suspicion off himself, it still makes no sense—at least to me. And what about the similarities between the murders—all three of them? How would Joe know about them? He can prove he was either on the trail or at Rancho Verde when they occurred. Of course, a good prosecutor would say that Joe had heard of the previous killings and just copied their manner to throw suspicion off himself but…I may have to defend Joe myself."

Hoss chuckled. "Well then you can call yourself esquire. What's that mean anyway?"

"Nothing in particular. Lawyers took the title upon themselves—makes them feel as if they're respected even when they're not. But then, we need them. When Shakespeare had a minor character say, 'The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers,' it had people laughing but having no lawyers would lead to chaos; people need someone to defend them when they can't defend themselves. The problem is that I don't think Spencer is capable of doing it. He seems almost afraid to."

"What about Pa?" Hoss asked. "Shouldn't we wire him and tell 'im about Joe?"

"I've been thinking about that but if Pa knows Joe's in trouble, he'll have Miles saddle up his horse and take off, broken collar bone and all. I won't chance his getting worse. I'll just wire him that we found Joe, he's okay and we'll be home in a while. That'll keep him from worrying until he has to."

The rode along in silence. It was dinnertime and Hoss' stomach was rumbling. "I hope we reach the Rigby place soon and it don't take too long. I'm starved. Why we ain't eat since this mornin'."

"We should be there soon besides, you're not gonna starve—you can live off your fat reserves for a month." Adam looked about. "Spencer said the Rigby place was just a ways north of town off the main road. We'll eat after I talk to Rigby. The hotel smelled like it had a good kitchen." Adam thought back to the small hotel, the only hotel in Mules' Pass. It wasn't fancy but it was clean and the mattresses on the two narrow beds weren't too lumpy. The only complaint that Hoss had was that the bed looked too small for him.

"Hell, I'll be hanging over the sides and my feet will hang off the end. Looks like I'm gonna have ta curl up on my side."

"Good—you do that. Then you won't snore all night and I'll get some sleep," Adam had replied.

Adam and Hoss finally reached the Rigby house about two miles outside of town. A white picket fence surrounded it and struggling rose bushes grew in the shade of the house. When Adam dismounted he noticed that weeds were beginning to sprout anew, as if someone had once assiduously tended the roses but hadn't lately. He also observed, as he and Hoss walked up the three steps that led to the front wooden porch, that the house needed fresh paint. Adam didn't like disrepair or neglect; it always nagged at his sense of order.

There was a wreath of dyed black flowers swathed in black ribbon hanging on the front door, Adam paused but then used the brass door knocker in the shape of a gargoyle head, the symbol for protection from evil. Obviously, Adam thought, it didn't work. He had to knock twice before a young woman of about 20 years with dark blonde hair answered the door and stood looking curiously the two brothers.

"Yes? May I help you?" She wore black taffeta and her blonde hair was pulled into a knot on top of her head but a fringe of curly bangs covered her forehead and small tendrils were at her temples. Her dark blue eyes drew Adam in; she was lovely and Adam then understood that if Melora Rigby was any relation to this woman, why Joe fell so quickly in love. In other circumstances, Adam felt that he too would be inclined to want more of this woman's attention if for no other reason than to look at her.

With their hats in their hands, Hoss waited while Adam spoke. "Yes—I hope so. Forgive our intrusion but…." Adam looked over to Hoss and then decided to start again. "I'm Adam Cartwright…" He saw her expression change. She wasn't afraid, just cautious. "This is my brother, Hoss Cartwright. Joe is our youngest brother…"

"Yeah," Hoss said. "He's the 'baby' of the family and afore we wire our pa and tell him that Joe's in jail for murder, we want to find out, well, we—that is, Adam here and me—we want to hear everything."

She stood in the doorway, her hand still on the door knob, considering.

"Who is it, Evangeline? Who's here at dinner time?"

She turned her head and spoke to the person in the depths of the house. "The brothers of Joe Cartwright are here, Papa. They would like to talk to us about…." She looked back at Adam. "About Melora."

An older man, an angry older man came to the door and abruptly pulled Evangeline away. She slightly resisted but he succeeded. He waved a rifle at Adam and Hoss who held their hands at shoulder height to show they weren't reaching for their weapons. Adam wondered how many more times he'd have a rifle pointed at him that day.

"Get out of here," he said. "I want you off my property. Now!"

"Papa, don't be foolish." Evangeline came back and opened the door wider. "I think we should let them in. I told you that I don't believe Joe Cartwright would hurt Melora."

"I just have a few questions, Mr. Rigby," Adam said in a calm, low tone, "and we'll be glad to let you hold that rifle on us the whole time. We'll even hand our side arms to you daughter, if you like. But we would like to hear your side of the events. Please. Our brother's life is on the line."

"My daughter's life was taken and she was only 16. Only 16." His voice caught in his throat.

"I'm sorry for your loss but don't damn Joe so quickly. He's young too and may have done some stupid things in his time but he wouldn't do something like this."

"Let them in, father." Mr. Rigby backed away from the door but he never put down his rifle. He sat down in an upholstered chair but still held his rifle across his knees, his finger on the trigger. Adam began to gingerly remove his gun but Evangeline told him not to bother. If they had wanted to kill her or her father, they could have easily done so already. She invited them to sit and offered them coffee which both declined.

"Can't I offer you something?" Evangeline asked. "We were about to eat dinner and I'd be pleased if you'd accept a bite of food."

"Evangeline, we're under no obligation to feed the brothers of your sister's murderer."

"Father-please. These men are guests in our home and you know as well as I that I was taught to be hospitable to guests. Now," she turned to Adam and Hoss, "may I offer you a plate of food? It's simple fare but filling and not to be guilty of the sin of vanity, but tasty as well. We've had so much food from neighbors that this is the first time I've cooked in over a week but the antelope was given to us just yesterday."

"No thank you," Adam said but Hoss looked at Adam beseechingly. "But my brother might be hungry."

Hoss beamed. "Yes'm, I'd be pleased to accept a little something, that is, if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all. Biscuits?" Hoss grinned wider and nodded his head. Evangeline left the room.

"Let me make this fast," Mr. Rigby said, "and then you and your brother get out of my house and don't come back. "My daughter—according to what Evangeline later told me and the sheriff—Melora was meeting your brother that night. They were going to run off and be married and since Melora was of age, well, there'd be nothing I could do about it. My Melora was a sweet, innocent girl but your brother, well, she was won over by him. He came for dinner twice. The first time, I gave him a chance. He said, probably to impress me, that he had a wealthy family and seems like I've heard of some Cartwrights up north from here who owned a ranch but if I know about the family, well, everyone probably knows who travels around some. Even though he had money to spend on Melora, bringing her little gifts and such, He could've been lying about who he was and who knows how he came by money. And the boy was nice enough, respectful enough but the second time he was here, well, Melora couldn't stop touching him. I knew then he was bad news, that they might already have a physical relationship. I had to lock Melora in her room to keep them from each other but that night, the night she was killed, well, she snuck out of the window to meet your brother. A pretty boy with pretty words—good for nothing else."

Hoss and Adam exchanged looks and just as Adam was about to speak, Evangeline came back with a tray holding a large bowl, two bicuits, a napkin, and a large spoon for Hoss.

"I hope you like antelope stew," she said handing everything to Hoss.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I love any kind of stew—even squirrel stew only spooning up a small rat-like skull can take away a man's appetite real quick."

Evangeline lightly laughed and sat down on the sofa beside Adam after wishing Hoss a good appetite. Adam's head was filled with the wafting scent of rose water. He noticed her small white hands held politely in her lap and he had an urge to reach for her and take up one small hand and press it to his lips.

"My brother here was born with a good appetite," Adam said and Evangeline lightly laughed while Hoss ate; he would have replied but his father's admonitions not to talk with a full mouth came to the forefront.

"Evangeline," Mr. Rigby said sharply, "how can you laugh in this house with your sister's passing so recent. Have you no decorum, no proper respect?"

"I'm sorry father—you're right, of course." Evangeline looked under her lowered lashes at Adam and he was intrigued. Was she conveying interest in him? Adam didn't know if he hoped so or not. After all, if things went well, if he could show Joe's innocence, they would soon be on their way home and Evangeline with her angelic looks would be left behind. But if Melora looked anything like her older sister than Adam could well understand Joe's enchantment with her.


	10. Chapter 10

"I apologize for my father," Evangeline said as she stood outside with Adam and Hoss. "This has been very hard on us both but my father, well, Melora was the baby of the family. We had an older brother but he died of pneumonia about six years ago. That and my mother's passing shortly after were both difficult for my father but losing Melora, well, it was devastating—he's been melancholy beyond help. Even the doctor hasn't been able to offer anything. He says that there are no medicines for diseases of the mind, that people have to deal with them either successfully or not and that we should pray for God's mercy and assistance. But he assures me that my father's melancholia, more than likely, will pass with time. I'm glad that at least he recovered enough to express hostility." Evangeline's face changed to one of mortification. "Oh, I hope you understand my last remark, Mr. Cartwright. I didn't mean to imply that I was…"

"It's all right, Miss Rigby," Adam said with a slight smile. "I understand. Joseph is the youngest son and my father, well, he dotes on Joe and if Joe should hang, well, I don't want to think of how it would destroy my father. Goodnight." Adam stared to mount up but Evangeline put a light hand on his arm. Hoss was already seated on his horse having thanked Evangeline for his hastily-eaten bowl of antelope stew and the glass of buttermilk he was given to wash it all down, complimenting her on its flavor. "Best I ever ate," he had said and he was sincere; he had only eaten antelope stew twice before but neither had been as savory or served up in such a nice china bowl painted with roses; the other times the stew had been dumped on a tin plate and cooked on the range while traveling. Then it was considered a nice change from the ubiquitous beef stews.

Hoss watched with interest Adam's peculiar manners toward Evangeline Rigby. She was a beauty—Hoss could see that. Why she even made him hunger a bit for her, surprisingly more than for her antelope stew. But it was how polite and attentive Adam had been toward her that made Hoss notice. But then Hoss knew Adam had gauged the situation and realized that he had to present a positive front to the Rigbys, especially Mr. Rigby, if he was going to convince them that Joe came from a family that couldn't have produced a killer of innocents, have bent and twisted someone's mind to the point that another's life meant nothing but a way to feed a lust for violence.

Adam stopped, turned, and Evangeline's hand dropped way. "If there's anything I can do to…help prove your brother's innocence, please let me know. Joe was…" She smiled as she thought, "funny and charming and he made Melora happy. She always smiled around him—he would just be silly around her, teasing her and sneaking quick kisses when my father wasn't looking. Joe was so delightful that I was even a bit envious of her—they were so joyous. And yet, there was a touch of sadness about him as if he had suffered a great loss in his life and realized that now that he had found happiness, he had..." Evangeline smiled again in embarrassment. "Listen to me! I'm just babbling on, aren't I? Talking foolishly." Evangeline fingered a jet brooch at the neck of her dress.

"No, it's not foolish at all. It's good to hear they were happy together," Adam said, "only I don't know why you would be envious. I'm sure you could have your choice of suitors. What are those lines from Longfellow's poem 'Evangeline'?" Adam looked up trying to remember the lines from the poem. "Something along the line of…'Many a youth fixed his eyes upon her…happy was he who might touch her hand or the hem of her garment. Many a suitor knocked and waited to hear her footsteps and never knew which beat louder—his heart or the knocker of iron.' Something like that."

Hoss suppressed a smile. Adam was a charmer but Hoss realized that Adam was sincere. But this did seem like an odd time to carry on.

Evangeline ducked her head; she wasn't sure about this man. Then she looked into his hazel eyes. "You're very kind and far too generous in your comparison. I could never be the inspiration for a poem…my goodness, I shouldn't talk so much about myself. I do have a suitor, Mr. Cartwright, the town doctor, Dr. Frank Branson. He tends to be pious and serious though but with all that he sees, well, I suppose there's not much to be cheerful about and God's help is needed as much as the right medicine when one is ill. Nevertheless, I do wish he'd laugh more."

Hoss waited. He knew that Adam would flatter her, find a way to make Evangeline Rigby know he wanted her.

"Just thinking about you would brighten up any man, I would think. I don't know how he can keep a constant smile off his face."

Evangeline blushed; Hoss could tell even in the darkness.

"Well" she said recovering her poise, "as I said, if there's anything I can do…I mean Joe wasn't even in town when the last two women…you do know about them, don't you?"

"Yes, I've heard. Where is the creek where…the other two women were found?" Adam thought it best to leave out Melora.

"It's west of here. The women—all of them including my sister—were found along the same half mile stretch of the Agua Negro."

"Ain't that Spanish for black water?" Hoss looked at Adam who suddenly stood straighter.

"Yes," Evangeline answered. She looked at Adam. "Are you all right, Mr. Cartwright?" To her, he looked odd and as much as she wanted to think his breathing had stepped up because of her, she couldn't flatter herself to that degree.

"Yes," he answered. "I just thought it was an odd name."

"Well, apparently it was called Mules' Pass quite a long time ago—it would recede so much in the fall that it was easier for Indian traders and such to cross here. That's where the town's name comes from but apparently, some Spanish Jesuits wanted to set up a mission here. They came to the creek for water to be sanctified and when they tried to bless it, it turned black and they saw Satan's face reflected in the water. They packed up and left for elsewhere but they called the creek Aqua Negro. People passing through have even said that they've seen the devil himself dancing about the creek. My father always told my sister and me that story to keep us away from the creek but it just ended up keeping me awake many a night as a small child. I still don't like it—even more now and maybe there is something evil about it."

Adam said nothing.

"Nothing like an old legend to scare littluns," Hoss said. "In order to keep Joe in the house at night—he was always managin' to get out at night when he was little, even pullin' up a chair to unbolt the door- Pa used to tell 'im 'bout Indians crawlin' about the Ponderosa late in the night lookin' for children to raise as their own. It kept 'im in the house all right."

Evangeline laughed and then noticed how somber Adam was. The front door of the house opened and Mr. Rigby stood in the light.

"Evangeline, time to come in."

"He still treats me like a small child but I suppose that parents always see their child as the child they once were. Good night to both of you. I'm sorry your visit couldn't have been on a more pleasant topic."

Adam spoke, his throat still tight. "Thank you, Miss Rigby for you kindness and you offer to help. I hope I don't have to take you up on it but if I need you, I will." He tipped his hat and mounted and Evangeline stepped back while Adam turned his horse's head toward town.

"Oh, Mr. Cartwright, are you staying in town?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"At the hotel?"

"Yes…" Adam was going to ask Evangeline why she had asked and if she was coming into town any time soon but her father called for her again, this time more demanding.

"Good night," she said, stepping back.

Adam and Hoss rode off but Adam turned and he could see Evangeline Rigby standing in the yard watching them ride away. They had gone only a few yards when Hoss spoke as he rode abreast his brother.

"What you think 'bout the name of that creek?"

"What about it?"

"Well it's Black Water. Remember what that fortuneteller said 'bout you drowning in black water?"

"So?"

"Well ain't you afraid of drownin' in it?"

"You and Joe—I swear…why would you believe such truck? Superstitions are like those stories you talked about, the ones people tell their children to make them behave."

"Well, just the same," Hoss said, "I think you should stay away from it."

"Listen, Hoss, if my 'unavoidable fate' is to drown in black water, then I'll drown in it no matter what I do. Hell, I might just accidently fall into your used bath water and drown—that's always black. Now just drop the whole thing."

Adam kicked his horse; he didn't like the conversation as the mention of black water had chilled his bones. But Adam wanted to get back to town; he had much to consider, especially his next step.


	11. Chapter 11

When Hoss and Adam arrived back at the hotel, they found they had been moved into another room, all their belongings having been transferred in their absence. Adam was outraged, furious but he held himself in check as the desk clerk cautiously handed him the new room key.

The desk clerk had hemmed and hawed and cleared his throat while explaining to the brothers that their room had been promised to someone else; he had forgotten about it but the traveler showed up so he had no choice. Hoss moved toward the counter and the man cringed and backed up against the wall boxes that held the room keys. The desk clerk again apologized profusely, said that he had no choice in the matter.

"So you're telling me," Adam said, leaning across the counter, "that you actually take reservations here."

The clerk looked at the counter as if praying that it remained between him and the two men. He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his brow.

"Well, sir, you see—every few months the same drummer, well, he comes to town… and has afavorite room…um…"

"You can lie better than that," Adam said.

"Well, sir, I…please. I just work here and do what I'm told."

"Who owns this hotel?" Adam leaned on one elbow while Hoss stood glowering, his brow furrowed in displeasure.

"Dr. Branson."

Adam stood up. "Oh, the town doctor, he owns it."

"His father-that Dr. Branson."

"And he told you—he decided to put us in another room." Adam was beginning to realize that the people in Mules' Pass wanted them gone and there was that connection with the Rigbys again.

"Show us the room," Adam demanded. "I want you to be there when I check to see that nothing was taken"

"Yes, sir, yes sir." The desk clerk scampered from around the counter and walking sideways like a crab to keep an eye on them, led them to a side stairwell that went to a lower floor.

"Be careful, Adam," Hoss said. "He might piss himself iffen you scare 'im any more."

"I'll rip off his head and piss down his neck."

Finally they came to a narrow door. "This is it," the clerk said as they stood outside the room. "I assure you, sir, everything that you had in the other room is here. I supervised it myself and locked the door right after we put your things here. No one else came down here."

"That's probably only because no one else knows this room is here."

The clerk gave a quick nervous smile, unlocked the door and quickly stepped aside. Adam and Hoss passed by him and Adam heard the clerk rush off; he wasn't going to stay for their reaction.

A long, narrow window at the top of the room allowed the only natural light, a bit of moonlight to shine in but the building next to it blocked any view of the sky. Adam struck a match and holding it up, saw a lamp on a small table by the door. He lit it and it gave a circle of yellow light.

Adam scoffed and shook his head. Hoss took off his hat and threw in it on the only bed in the room, a double bed pushed up against one wall. The only other furniture was a three-drawer chest on which their belongings had been set.

"Hell, Adam, I been in outhouses bigger than this."

"It's Sheriff Murphy, that sonovabitch—this is his idea of a big joke, a way to get us out of town—or get us arrested. Stick us in the goddamn basement. Sonovabitch!" Adam fumed a bit longer, shaking his head and cursing. Hoss smiled; it wasn't often he saw Adam so flummoxed. There was nothing Adam could do about the situation and he couldn't bear it because as Adam always said about solving any problem, "There's got to be a way." But this time, there seemed no way. He couldn't threaten the desk clerk because he could be arrested for verbal assault and if he laid hands on the desk clerk, the charge would be battery. Finally, Adam sighed. "I'm getting something to eat. How about you?"

"That antelope stew was mighty good—mighty good-but I could eat." Hoss slapped his belly. " 'Sides, I ain't lettin' you outta my sight. If your ass is gonna land in jail, well, I might as well be right in there with you. Actually," he said looking around, "I think one of them jail cells is bigger than this room—two cots too. Maybe we'd be better off there." Adam smiled—Hoss was probably right. "Well, let's go eat." Hoss picked up his hat, settled it on his head and they went up the stairs to the main floor.

"Sleeping in a damn basement," Adam muttered in disgust as they entered the hotel's restaurant. It wasn't busy, only a fewsolitary men sat eating and one couple sat at one of the neat, round tables with white tablecloths. The brothers took a seat and a waiter came to them and asked them what they'd like. They looked at a board with the day's fare on it.

Hoss ordered steak and eggs and Adam had beef roast with fried potatoes and peas. He was disgusted with the food as soon as he tasted it.

"The beef is stringy—that is if it's really beef—the potatoes are burned and the peas are boiled to a mush." Adam pushed his plate away and picked up the coffee, sipping it and then making a face. "And the coffee is bitter."

Hoss reached over and stabbed a forkful of Adam's discarded potatoes. He stuck them in his mouth. "Taste nice and crispy to me."

Adam was about to make a comment on Hoss' taste—or lack of-when his attention was drawn to the entrance-Evangeline Rigby stood in the middle of the drawn portieres, looking around. Adam rose and Evangeline saw him and strode over. Hoss, once he realized who Adam saw, stood as well, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

"Miss Rigby, won't you join us? Please." Adam pulled out a chair and Evangeline sat down, thanking him and acknowledging Hoss. Hoss, still chewing, nodded in return. The waiter came over and addressing Evangeline as Miss Rigby, asked if she would like anything but she declined.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner…" she looked at Hoss' plate. "Oh, my, you do have a prodigious appetite don't you?"

"Yes, he does," Adam said. "For everything. But you're here for a reason, Miss Rigby. I'm assuming your father doesn't know you're here?"

"No, he doesn't. He's retired for the night and I'm ashamed to say I snuck out. Mr. Cartwright, I …." She reached inside her reticule and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "This was written by my sister before she left that night to meet your brother. I haven't shown it to anyone else—saw no reason to and I wavered earlier about whether to show you, but, well…." She handed it to Adam. He unfolded it and read the immature script which revealed a schoolgirl's outlook on life and love.

 _My dearest sister,_

 _By the time you read this, I shall be Mrs. Joseph Cartwright and on my way to meet my in-laws in Nevada. Evie, I am so happy! I tried to tell you before I left but you were charming Frank on the front porch and I didn't want to interrupt. So did he finally kiss you, Evie? If he has, I'm happy for you, sister, and the pleasure you felt is only a taste of what it's like when Joe kisses me! Oh, Evie, share my joy with me!_

 _I have packed a bag and will ride Maybelle for the journey; father will be upset but smooth things over for me, will you? I hope you won't be cross but I borrowed your tan and red riding habit for the trip. I will return it the next time I see you and can then give you the parting kiss I so wanted to bestow tonight as well as a kiss upon greeting you—two kisses for my darling sister!_

 _I am meeting Joseph at Black Water Creek and then we are off to spend the rest of our lives together. True love triumphs over all impediments! Nothing is more important in life than romantic passion and I have it—at last. I have become one of the heroines in the novels we so enjoyed reading._

 _I hope that you and father will come visit us once we are settled. Oh, Evie, I am exultant as I will be the mistress of a mansion sitting among regal pines and will have the handsomest husband in the world. I'm sure we will eventually have sons as fine-looking as their father. On, and I will also be rich!_

 _My life has turned out better than I could have imagined as there is no one in Mules' Pass who I would have ever have considered as a husband. It was fate that Joe Cartwright and I met and I have never been happier. Well, at least not yet. I cannot help but blush when I think of our wedding night to come. I'm sure it will be an ecstatic experience._

 _Please be happy for me, sister, and explain to father what I have done. Give him a kiss for me and ask him not to worry for my sake._

 _All my love to you both,_

 _Mrs. Joseph F. Cartwright._

Adam refolded the letter and handed it back to Evangeline. Knowing what he now did about young Melora Rigby, that she was on the cusp of living the type of life she dreamed about, that she held the same romantic ideals that most young girls did, her death affected him even more—it was too much like Amy Forrester's—both being young girls who had been robbed of their adulthood, of their chances to find love and happiness. And he was taken back to the day he discovered young Amy's body. His breath became caught in his throat again and his nostrils filled with the sickly-sweet smell of the fortuneteller's tent—he became light-headed again..

"I don't understand why you're showing this to me?" Adam said quietly, trying desperately to compose himself.

Evangeline slipped the letter back into her small purse. "Mr. Cartwright, if Joe wanted to kill my sister, if he had plans for it all along, why wait until after people had seen him with her so many times? Why not do it the first time he walked her home? And there's one other thing—how did the killer know where she would be? She hadn't even told me. The only person would be Joe but as I said, I don't believe he killed her. Do you think he told someone he was meeting her?"

Adam paused—the fog in his head receded and then it came to him. Were all the killings just matters of opportunity? Did the killer just roam the countryside looking for victims? Adam believed there was a pattern even in chaos. Besides, nothing a human does is completely random—nothing. Even an insane person follows what to them, is a logical thought process.

"I'll find out," Adam said. "Thank you. I should have thought of it myself."

Evangeline rose from the table and so did Hoss and Adam. "You're welcome, Mr. Cartwright, and I meant what I said. If I can be of any help…"

"You already have. Let me walk you out."

Hoss watched Adam place a hand on the small of Miss Rigby's back to guide her. Hoss smiled. That was the way it always was—Adam could charm any woman if he made even the slightest effort. Then he went back to his food. He couldn't understand how Adam could even focus on sparking a girl with an empty stomach.


	12. Chapter 12

Adam handed Evangeline up to the seat of the small buggy and she thanked him as she tucked her skirts under her and took up the reins.

"I'm disinclined to let you drive all that way alone. Why don't you wait a few minutes; I'll go saddle my horse and tie it on the back. It won't take long."

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Cartwright, but…"

"Please, won't you call me Adam? I think we can do away with formality now."

"Well…perhaps but…all right but then you must return the consideration and call me Evangeline." She smiled at him.

"Sounds fair. Evangeline—it's musical in its sound—it has the sound of the wind through the trees."

"You are the lover of poetry, aren't you, Adam?" She looked s askance at his tendency to romanticize; that was the way she saw it. Evangeline wasn't used to such flowery compliments from Frank Branson. As a form of praise, he would only quote Proverbs and their praises: "Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies," and warn her that "Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain." But Evangeline wanted to be told she was beautiful and wanted a man to desire her, for him to want her in his bed for more than procreation—for mutual delight and pleasure. Adam Cartwright stirred those feelings she valiantly tried to suppress and brought them bubbling to the surface.

"I can appreciate beauty in any form—whether it be the music of words, the beauty of nature or the form of a woman."

"You make me blush."

"It only makes you lovelier."

Evangeline sat for a moment, the reins still in her hands. "Mr. Cartwright…Adam, I tend to mistrust flattery as well as flatterers. I am unsure about you and your sincerity as every woman loves to hear she is beautiful and made to feel desired. I'm sure you know that."

Adam grinned. "I assure you, I am sincere and if you don't believe me—that my compliments on your beauty aren't genuine, when you get home, look in your mirror and see yourself as I do."

Evangeline was still dubious but smiled. "Good night, Adam—oh, I almost forgot. Will you and your brother come for dinner tomorrow?"

"If you promise your father won't fill us with buckshot."

Evangeline laughed again and Adam's chest swelled with emotion. Evangeline Rigby was a lovely young woman and she touched him with her sincerity and vulnerability. "I promise. 7:00 tomorrow evening. Perhaps we can all put our heads together and help your brother."

"7:00 it is," Adam said. She smiled again and then snapped the reins. Adam stepped out into the street to watch Evangeline's buggy as it rolled down the street. He still felt uncomfortable about her returning home alone. With a sigh, he finally turned to go back into the hotel and was surprised to see a well-dressed man blocking his way; Adam wondered how long he had been there. He shouldered the man aside to pass but the man reached out and grabbed Adam's arm. And suddenly Adam knew he was facing Dr. Frank Branson and that the issue was the lovely Evangeline Rigby.

After a few minutes, Adam returned to the table looking troubled.

"What happened, charm boy? Miss Rigby not let you kiss 'er and run your hands all over 'er?"

"Shut up."

"What's eatin' you?"

"I was watching her buggy leave and was going to come back in when a man came up and grabbed my arm."

'You're kiddin'" Hoss stopped eating.

"No, I'm not. It was Frank Branson, the good doctor. Seems he didn't like my talking to Evangeline, told me to stay away from her. He also said he knew who I was, that I was the brother of the man who had killed her sister and intimated that I wanted to do away with Evangeline in the same manner as her sister. It was all I could do to keep from busting his face."

"Glad you didn't. You sure you don't want any of this?" Hoss gestured towards Adam's plate.

"No, I don't. Help yourself." Adam sat silently then rose. "I'm going to escort Evangeline back home. I don't like her going all that way by herself."

"Now, Adam…"

"Here." Adam peeled off some bills and then tossed them on the table. "That'll cover everything." Adam picked up his hat and strode out.

Hoss continued to eat but he felt uneasy. Then he sighed. Adam was Adam and there was nothing to be done. Besides, Miss Rigby really shouldn't be out by herself at night. If things went as they had in the other towns, as they had nine years ago in Virginia City there would be four more killings before they stopped and one could easily be Evangeline Rigby.

~ 0 ~

The livery stable was two doors down from the hotel and Adam hastily saddled his horse and left town heading toward the Rigby's. It took about 10 minutes at a brisk canter before Adam could discern the carriage on the road ahead. Had she been on horseback, Adam knew he would have lost her as she could have cut through the countryside instead of following the road. The buggy suddenly went faster and Adam realized that Evangeline had heard him or seen him and was frightened so he called out to her. The buggy slowed and then stopped. Adam pulled up his horse beside her.

"Adam, you frightened me."

"I'm sorry. I just couldn't let you drive all this way alone. Let me tie my horse to the back." Adam was soon beside her on the seat and took the reins from her; they were soon on their way.

"I suppose I should thank you—and I do. But it's really not necessary."

"You said you were frightened. I could have been anyone so I think that makes my point."

Evangeline said nothing, only looked at Adam's determined profile. A thrill ran through her and she blushed, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. She realized she wanted a man like him, a man of passion and feeling, a man who would grab her and kiss her and perhaps—but she dared not even think of it. She smoothed her skirts and sat up straighter.

"Since you're out this way, do you want to see Agua Negre Creek? It's not someplace one would go except for a reason, especially this time of year when it's running so quickly—quite tumultuous water. It's not really a creek except in late summer and early fall but it's not a river ether."

His heart started pounding in his chest and he broke out in a sweat. Adam silently chided himself. He knew that the prediction from the carnival fortuneteller was bogus—no one could see into the future, there was nothing such as predetermination and even if there were, it was beyond human ken. A man made his own decisions and suffered the consequences and although, he knew he could predict how his family—his father, brothers and even Hop Sing, would behave, would react, in certain situations, that was just familiarity with their patterns of behavior—there was nothing otherworldly in it, nothing occult, just past behaviors determining future behaviors.

And yet he felt the air thicken about him; his head clouded. He felt almost as if he couldn't swallow, his throat closing. He blew out his breath and Evangeline turned quickly to look at him and Adam was glad it was dark.

"Shouldn't we get you straight home? You don't want to worry your father."

There was an awkward pause and Adam could see from the corner of his eye that Evangeline was watching him closely.

In a soft voice she replied, "Yes, I suppose I should go home. My father hasn't been sleeping well and he might awaken and be upset I'm not there. He doesn't need anything else to worry him or destroy his peace."

"And yet you still want us to come to dinner?" It was both a statement and a question.

Evangeline laughed lightly and Adam smiled—she was lovely and it had been quite a while since he had felt so comfortable with a woman. Then he relaxed even more when she slipped her arm through his and they rode the rest of the way to the Rigby house in silence; Adam felt a peace descend on him.


	13. Chapter 13

Hoss was already in the bed when Adam walked in. He lit the lamp, undressed down to his long johns and then looked at the bed again. He wondered how he was going to sleep since Hoss, lying on his back, had taken up the whole mattress. He turned down the lamp and then went to Hoss and slapped his shoulder.

"What…what?" Startled, Hoss opened his eyes only to see Adam's glower. "What the hell?"

"Move over—you've taken up the whole damn bed."

With a huge sigh, Hoss rolled over and left part of the bed for Adam. Adam lay down, turning over to his side so that they had their backs together. Hoss sighed and smacked his lips as he settled into the mattress, then raised himself to punch his pillow and adjust it so that he was comfortable.

"Do you have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make all that noise. Can't you just shut your eyes and go to sleep?"

"What the hell's wrong with you? You try to kiss Miss Rigby and she slap your face?"

"The only thing that's bothering me is you. I come in and you're spread out over the whole bed. You're still taking more than half and…I swear, if you snore tonight, I'm holding a pillow over your face."

"Look, Adam, I don't like sharing this bed with you any more'n you enjoy sharin' it with me. An' I'm just as upset about Joe as you are—maybe even more."

Adam still lay on his side although Hoss had sat up. Adam could tell by the shift in the mattress.

"What do you mean, more? You think I don't care?"

"No, it's just that Joe and me, well, we got a different type of…look, Adam, you're so much older'n Joe that sometimes you're more like a father to him than a brother. Sometimes he needs that, especially when Pa's not around or there's somethin' he don't want to tell Pa but can tell you and I know you've bailed his sorry ass outta trouble more times than I can count, well, unless I take off my boots and use my toes and I might even have to drop my drawers…"

Adam smiled to himself in the dark. Hoss was invaluable. No matter what, Hoss had a way of keeping things in perspective. People always thought Hoss was a simple man and in many ways he was. He was content to live life and take things as they came unlike himself—he always wanted to change things, always wondered why things happened but Hoss just accepted they happened and went on from there. Hoss helped him see that he needed to be more accepting of events and not to "think so much," something Adam knew he always did. And Adam also envied Hoss' ability to live in the world and not in his mind.

Adam sat up. "I'm just tired. Oh, and we're invited to the Rigby's for dinner tomorrow."

"Oh, her daddy gonna feed us a load of buckshot?"

Adam chuckled. "I hope not—I've had enough of guns being pointed at me. Now let's go to sleep. I want to see Joe nice and early tomorrow. And then we'll wire Pa." Adam lay back down and pulled the blanket up around himself.

"Hey," Hoss said, "what was in that letter that Miss Rigby showed you that made you get shed of it so fast?'

"Evangeline."

"Yeah, her."

"No, it's that she told me to call her Evangeline."

"Awwww, ain't that nice? Maybe she's sweet on you." Adam felt Hoss' elbow jab him in the back. "How come you ain't answerin' my question?"

"It only said the things you'd expect a young girl to say if she was eloping-that she was happy and in love. Told her family she loved them and hoped they'd be happy for her. Things like that. Now let me sleep."

"You think only gals leave notes when they do things like that? If you was runnin' off, think you'd leave a note? I don't know that I would."

"If I answer you, will you finally shut that mouth of yours and let me sleep?"

"Sure."

"Yes, I'd leave a note."

"I figured you would." Hoss adjusted his position on the bed and was soon asleep. Adam could hear his brother's even breathing and envied him his ability to sleep just about anywhere—even, as he would say, "Hangin' on a nail." But Adam only stared at the wall in front of him, his mind going in circles, wondering what he could do to prove Joe's innocence, hoping that the key lay with Evangeline Rigby—and thinking of her mouth and her eyes and the smell of roses about her—and wanting her near. And then Hoss rolled on his back, throwing one arm over Adam, and started snoring.

~ 0 ~

Hoss and Adam soon discovered that the reason Joe was denied sending a wire to his family was a logical one—the town had no telegraph office. No lines had yet been strung across the area and Adam was embarrassed to admit to Hoss that he had never noticed the lack of tarred poles and wire.

"Well," Adam said, "I suppose that precludes sending for a new lawyer and letting Pa know we found Joe."

"Yeah, he's gonna be worried." Hoss stood and looked around the small town, his hands on his hips. He hadn't liked this town from the moment they arrived and he liked it even worse now.

"Maybe you should ride to the next town and send a wire."

"Ain't no way in hell I'm gonna leave you here alone. I don't wanna find you and Joe strung up beside each other when I return."

"I swear…" Adam said. "I don't need a nursemaid—I can take care of myself. Hoss, you act like I'm Joe."

"Well, both of you's easy to rile—only difference bein' you plot and plan and wait your chance before you take a man down. Now Joe, he acts from the gut—not the head like you. But you both need watchin' over."

Adam just shook his head in disgust and headed to see Amos Spencer, Esquire.

~ 0 ~

"Ain't you gonna eat your breakfast?" Hoss asked Joe. "Smells good."

"I don't have an appetite," Joe said. "Go ahead and eat it if you want it."

"Don't mind if I do." Hoss picked up the tin plate that held strips of bacon, a buttered biscuit and two fried eggs and began to eat. Joe and Adam smiled at one another.

Adam sat on the cot beside Joe. "Well, I went to see Spencer and he's not as much of an idiot as I initially thought; I tend to agree that if the time comes, you forgo a jury trial and just have the judge hear your case."

"But, Adam…."

Adam put up his hand and Joe stopped talking. "Listen, I get the strong impression that this town in general wants us gone." Hoss nodded in agreement and just continued eating.

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, like I said, it's just a general impression. But I know that they would just as soon see you hang as spit on you—and Hoss and me swinging alongside you. Now listen, I think that…there's more to this than just the Rigby girl…"

"Melora. Her name was Melora."

"I'm sorry—than just Melora's death. I think the doctor is involved somehow. Did you know that there is an elder Dr. Branson?"

"No. What's it to me?"

"Well," Adam shifted uncomfortably. "Look, you said that the son, the younger Dr. Branson was coming back from delivering a baby that evening, right?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"Has it been corroborated?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Didn't anyone corroborate the doctor's story because if there was no baby, no patient, then he doesn't have an alibi for the time of the murder? I mentioned it to Spencer but he said that it wouldn't do any good to throw suspicion on Branson; he's saved too many lives around here and he's viewed as a saint. Spencer said he's a good, able, compassionate man."

"And he's courtin' Evangeline Rigby," Hoss said, putting down the now-empty plate. He pulled a bandana out of his back pocket and wiped his mouth. "Sounds a bit suspect to me. So Adam and me, well, we're gonna visit the good doctor next and find out just who his patient was."

"I don't know about this?" Joe looked anxious.

"You need to get some sleep-you look drawn. Eat something too—appetite or not."

"I can't sleep, Adam. I just keep going over and over in my head how things would have been different if I'd just left town earlier to meet Melora."

"Joe, things _might_ have been different had you been there earlier; you might both be dead." Joe dropped his head and Adam placed an arm about his brother. "They treating you all right? You need anything we can bring you?"

Joe shook his head and wiped his nose on his shirt-sleeve. Adam raised his eyebrows, Joe looked at him and laughed. They were both remembering how many times over the years their father had chastised Joe with, "Your sleeve isn't your handkerchief!"

Adam slapped Joe on the back and both he and Hoss smiled and put on a front as they said good-bye to Joe. "Don't worry too much," Adam said. "We'll…" Adam was going to say "get you out," but with Sheriff Murphy holding the cell door open, he was afraid if he said anything that even sounded like a possible jailbreak, the sheriff would slam the barred door shut and keep all three brothers locked up so all Adam said was that they'd see he had a good defense.

Outside, Adam looked to Hoss. "Let's go see the doctor," Hoss said. And the two walked down the sidewalk, their boot heels clicking in the wood, until they reached Branson's office near the outskirts of town.


	14. Chapter 14

The waiting room was empty. It had obviously been intended as a parlor; it had the obligatory fireplace and the large front window. Adam and Hoss sat in wooden chairs lining the wall. The room was austere except for a picture of Jesus hanging on one wall and there was a desk and empty chair as if a receptionist or nurse should be sitting there. The doctor and his father were relegated to live in the back areas of the house.

After about fifteen minutes, Adam sitting silently while Hoss paced about the room, the door to the back office opened and a woman who was obviously with child walked out with a young boy whose arm was set in splints and wrapped with bandages, all supported by a sling.

"Thank you, Dr. Branson. I just…I swear this boy's gonna be the death of me!"

"Now, now," Dr. Branson said convivially, "boys will be boys and what boy can resist a tree just made for climbing."

The woman shook her head and looked at her son who was about 7 years. Then she smiled with gratitude at the doctor. "Well, I promised you that peach pie and a loaf of currant bread in payment and I will deliver them."

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Mitchell. You make sure your family eats well before you make anything for me. You're going to have another mouth to feed soon."

The woman blushed and then as she passed Hoss and Adam, pushing her son ahead, they both tipped their hats and then faced the doctor who stood looking at them.

"Have you come to assault me, Mr. Cartwright? Last night I had the distinct impression that you wanted to strike me."

"No, I haven't come for a reason like that although last night I did want to lay you out on the sidewalk. We're here to ask you some questions about the night you intercepted my brother bringing Melora Rigby back to town—actually, he was bringing her to you." Adam stood with his feet braced and his arms crossed.

"I don't believe I can discuss it. I'm going to be a witness for the prosecution."

"Well, let me ask you this—did my brother seem distraught? Sad? Overwhelmed with grief? He said he begged you for help."

"Yes, it was obvious that he was upset; he had just assaulted and strangled a girl who loved him—a lovely girl who never harmed anyone, never had a lustful thought until he came into her life—and I found him with her body. It would be unnatural for him not to be upset—even the sinful know when they've committed trespass. And your brother did beg me to take her body into Mules' Pass. He practically dumped her in the back of my buggy and then he left, took off like a thief in the night. After all, he did steal Melora's life."

"Now you look here, Mister," Hoss said moving toward the doctor. Adam cleared his throat and put out a hand to stay his brother.

"Hoss, maybe you should wait outside." Adam didn't like the way the conversation was going; Branson would be a damning witness but he couldn't have Hoss rough up this man who was so obviously beloved and needed by the citizens.

"Yeah, maybe I should afore I do somethin' he'll regret," Hoss said, frowning, and turned on his heel, leaving to pace outside.

"You should make an appointment, Mr. Cartwright, since you have no emergency."

Adam looked at the desk. "With whom? You have no receptionist, no nurse."

"Once Evangeline and I marry, she will assist me and act as my nurse. So if you have no illness or malaise, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave now. Or do I need to send my father for the sheriff?"

"I'm just trying to find out what happened. My brother gives me one set of events and you give me another. I think the truth lies somewhere in between."

"The truth lies with me."

Adam cleared his throat. "I'm sure you've dealt with nervous conditions before, doctor, all doctors do as sometimes the maladies of the mind affect the body and one has to treat the mind in order to heal the body."

Adam watched Dr. Branson stand straighter as if suddenly on alert. "That is true. A doctor has to consider everything in his diagnosis. Those illnesses—the manifestation of those issues of an ill nervous condition, one affected by urges—undeniable urges…"

It seemed to Adam that the doctor was unable to stop himself from talking. He was sweating and appeared nervous. But then it was a hot day and he had just been threatened by a 300 pound man who waited just outside the door. But still…

"Well…with those conditions," the doctor continued, "often there's no cure—especially when it becomes obsessive. Take Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth and her compulsive hand-washing, fortunate woman to only sleepwalk and reenact washing her hands. A dramatic display for the audience, but as her doctor said, she needed a priest more than his ministrations. And so often I find myself acting as both. God guides my hand, and if I cannot help a person with such power behind me, well, then the devil has a grip on them—a mighty grip and is acting as his minion."

Adam felt an icy chill. Branson had an odd look in his eyes, a fanatical look, the same one he had seen years ago when he and his father were on their trip west. They had stopped at a general store for supplies and Adam was told to wait in the wagon. He looked out the back of the covered wagon and noticed people crowding around a man who stood above the others and was thumping on a Bible he held up in one hand and then gesticulating, pointing to the people about him. His voice was loud, strong, and Adam caught the words "fornicators: and "damnation" and "hell-fire."

Adam had small knowledge of the Bible. At night his father read him passages from the Bible as bedtime stories and as they rode along during the day, Adam took his schooling from the Bible, the pages obviously turned before by many fingers, some of those his own mother's. His father chose only the sections that taught morality or stories of faith and goodness although Adam had his doubts about Job and why God saw fit to allow Satan to torment him. Nevertheless, Adam flipped through the pages when alone and found that not all the stories in the Bible were so pure—there were certain stories he read again and again as they excited feelings in him he couldn't understand. And although he didn't know all the words, he was learning them. And this wandering preacher was obviously preaching about the sections of the Bible that interested him the most.

He jumped down from the wagon and went to the crowd but being so small, Adam couldn't see so he worked his way among the men and women in the crowd. Now he could see why the man rose above all the others; he was standing on an upside-down crate that had the words, " Murfee's. The Sweetest Peaches in Georgia," and an image of a ripe peach painted on it. It had been a long time since Adam had tasted a piece of fruit and his mouth watered.

"YOU! BOY!" the man roared and pointed at Adam. The people around him looked down at him. "Come here, boy."

Adam had been taught to respect his elders and he didn't know what to do. The man looked wild, his long, dirty locks hanging about his shoulders. His eyes were like shiny obsidian with an odd expression as if he saw things beyond the world. The man summoned him again and Adam felt hands push him forward.

The man stepped down and grabbed Adam's jacket. "See this boy here—young and pure you might think but even he has sinned." Adam looked at the man's hand; the nails were ragged and filthy and the cuffs of his shirt were frayed and begrimed. "A child fresh from the womb is already cast into sin as we are all, born damned by the sins of the parents of all, Adam and Eve. He too shall become a liar and a fornicator and there are only two ways to escape this fate—death or finding salvation in the word of God and the ways of His Son!"

The man shook Adam for emphasis. He wished he had stayed in the wagon but suddenly Adam realized that he had been disobedient and was a sinner just as this street preacher had stated. He probably would be a liar and a fornicator although he didn't know what a fornicator was. But he did know what a liar was and yes, he had to admit to himself, he had lied a few times.

"What is it you want, boy? What fate do you choose? Eternal damnation" The man said, looking at him, his eyes glittering feverishly.

"Let go of my boy!" Ben Cartwright had pushed his way through the people and reached for Adam, pulling him away from the man.

"I offer your son salvation," the man said. "Don't you want your boy saved from sin, from depravity, from the hellfires of damnation?"

Ben didn't respond, just hustled Adam through the crowd and to their wagon.

"I told you to stay here in the wagon."

"I know, Pa. I just wanted to see what was going on."

"I have a good mind to tan you right here in the middle of the street, but…"

Adam could see his father's shoulders drop.

"Get in the wagon, Adam, and the next time I tell you to stay in the wagon, do as you're told. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Adam crawled up into the back of the wagon and as they drove out of town, Adam saw that the street preacher had retaken his peach-crate pulpit. Later Adam considered that he would ask his father what a fornicator was. Later when his father had calmed down.

And right now, Dr. Frank Branson had that same look in his eyes as that street preacher had and Adam considered that the man may be unhinged.

~ 0 ~

"Besides," as he explained to Hoss, "we don't want anyone to think that all three of us take out our frustration and anger on others physically."

"Well, I didn't like what he was saying."

"Well, you really won't like this then; Dr, Branson wouldn't reveal the name of his patient, the woman who delivered that night. He said that he wouldn't have us bothering the woman. Also, the good doctor has come up with a theory that he's shared with the prosecutor. The doctor—claiming his superior knowledge of the human mind-says that Melora probably changed her mind about eloping, told Joe she wouldn't leave with him and he became angry. So, after forcefully taking her virtue which he thought was his right, strangled her. I don't want them to use any crude behavior of ours as examples of how the Carwtright family acts—it'll just give their theory more credence. They'll bring up our money and how we think we're above the law and since we've always had what we want, think it's our divine right to take whatever tempts us—or destroy whatever thwarts us."

"What makes you so sure they'd go that way?"

"Because it's what I'd do if I were prosecuting Joe." And leaving a stunned Hoss on the sidewalk, Adam strode to the nearest restaurant. He wanted to pick up a treat for Joe, something to entice him to eat and he was hungry himself. Adam pulled out his watch. It was 11:45—lunch. "Well, aren't you coming?" he said, turning. "Let's try that little restaurant—Mary's Kitchen."

Hoss grinned and joined his brother, throwing an arm across Adam's shoulders, wondering what the family would ever do without the man beside him


	15. Chapter 15

Hoss took the butterscotch cream pie he and Adam bought back to Joe's cell. He and Joe, with two forks reluctantly provided by the sheriff, sat on the cot and ate the pie together. Joe said he was eating it, not because he was hungry, but so Hoss wouldn't put on any more poundage and founder his horse. Adam stayed behind to talk to the sheriff.

"I'd like to talk to you and I'd appreciate it if you'd listen and consider what I have to say," Adam said.

The sheriff sat down behind his desk. "Okay. Talk."

"I went to see Dr. Branson."

"He gonna be filin' charges?"

"No. I went to find out the name of his patient the night Melora Rigby was killed. He refused to tell me."

"So? He doesn't have to tell you anything."

"So he said. Amos Spencer won't ask him, says that Branson isn't a suspect and that it's not relevant to the case."

"He isn't a suspect," the sheriff confirmed.

"Why not?"

"Why should he be?" Sheriff Murphy picked up his coffee cup. It was thick-walled white china and he looked at the watery grounds in the bottom as if they held a great deal of interest. He took the mug and walked over to the stove where the dented coffeepot sat, and poured himself another cup.

Adam watched and waited. He recognized what was going on; Adam had given Murphy an idea he hadn't before considered.

"Well, his version of events and my brother's differ. The doc claims Joe was running away—a sign of guilt. Joe claims that Branson told him to fetch Mr. Rigby. That makes a big difference. What if there was no actual patient? What if Branson had been out there…" Adam paused and quickly rethought his approach, "and unknowingly saw the killer or maybe, if the woman he treated that night or one of her family saw the killer—that is if the place was close enough to…Black Water Creek?" Adam was loathe for a reason he couldn't understand, to say the name of the creek out loud; it made his pulse step up. "I would hope that Branson's not one to judge before all the evidence is in but he seems to be sitting on some that might be exculpatory."

The sheriff looked at the coffee in his cup and then at Adam. "Coffee?"

Adam didn't really want any—had drunk 3 cups of sweet coffee with lunch—but felt that the offer was a peace offering of a sort. "Thanks." The sheriff put down his mug, picked up another one upside-down on a shelf beside the stove that also held a bag of coffee beans and a grinder. He poured Adam a cup. Adam swirled the dark brown, oily liquid to cool it off and then hazarded a sip; it was bitter.

"How long has Branson been a doctor here?" Adam took another sip.

"About two years. Showed up with his father in tow and hung up a shingle. He's saved many a life during that time. Kids with pneumonia, women who otherwise might've died giving birth—set broken arms and legs—things like that."

"Do you see his father much?"

"Brings him to church every so often. The old doc doesn't say much, just shuffles in leaning on his son's arm, sits and then leaves after services the same way."

"Like he might be drugged?" Adam asked.

"Or like he might be old and feeble," the sheriff added.

"Have you ever looked into their background? Examined the doc's credentials? Both of them, that is."

"Never had any reason to. Besides, I'd have to ride into a city that had telegraph service and since I'm the only lawman—basically—'cept for my deputy but I wouldn't leave the whole town in his care—I can't take the time."

"I got the impression this was a peaceful town." Adam drank as much coffee as he could before getting to the dregs.

"Usually. But then the past three murders show things can happen when you least expect it."

"You know," Adam said, putting the mug down and remembering Inger Borgstrom, Hoss' mother, "the Swedish crack an egg in their coffeepot when they brew—captures the dregs and takes away the bitterness. Sometimes they even toss in the shells." The sheriff just continued to sip at his coffee. "Another thing, on our way here to look for our brother, we stopped at every graveyard to see if Joe had been killed and buried but I noticed that in most of the towns, there was a group of relatively recent females' graves—seven in each town, to be exact, some girls, some grown, all within months of each other and about nine years ago, there was a series of murders—seven of them—in Virginia City just like Melora Rigby's and the two women before her. Do you see a pattern?"

The sheriff drank off his coffee, put down his mug and then looked at Adam. "Yeah. Seems like wherever you Cartwrights go, women die."


	16. Chapter 16

The open-mouthed gargoyle with his obscene tongue thrust out, stared at Adam. Gargoyles were employed to chase off evil—used for protection which is why Adam had seen so many on European cathedrals, but most people had simple brass rings for a doorknocker or perhaps an elegant lady's hand which was a popular motif, but Adam had never seen one like this before on a simple home. But then this house was located near the creek where Satan allegedly danced. He knocked twice and waited for Evangeline to open the door, anticipating her lovely, welcoming smile.

For a reason he couldn't pinpoint, Adam was anxious, filled with a sense of foreboding, and wished Hoss was standing beside him but Hoss had elected to stay behind.

"I've never seen you turn down a good meal," Adam said as he bent down to see his reflection in the mirror standing on the small chest. The silver was peeled off in spots and the glass was of poor quality—wavy like a mirror in a funhouse at the carnival-but Adam could at least make sure he looked decent. Earlier he had bought a white shirt, tie and a pair of trousers and then had a bath for 50 cents. All in all, he paid over five dollars to look presentable for the Rigbys, for Evangeline. The only issue he had was polishing his boots. The saloon had a shoe shine stand but he found out that it had long been abandoned so Adam gave the bartender a nickel and using the boot black that was still there, polished his own boots.

"Well, now Joe, he's mighty lonely and down so I promised I'd play a game of checkers or cards—whatever the sheriff's got. Hell, I'll even pretend I don't see him cheat."

Adam chuckled and then picked up his hat. He hit it against his thigh a few times to knock off any dust, ran his fingers around the inside band and then settled it on his head.

"Lookin' mighty pretty there," Hoss said as he lay on the bed, "kinda like a preacher."

"Go to hell," Adam replied and Hoss chuckled good-naturedly.

On his solitary ride to the Rigby's, Adam mulled over the earlier conversation between him and the sheriff. Adam had brought up that the killer was still in Mules' Pass—had to be—and that if the pattern kept, four more women would be killed.

"I agree," the sheriff had said. "That is, if the killer were free but I've got him locked up in the back."

"You can't actually believe it was my brother."

"And why's that?"

"Because he's not a killer or an idiot." The sheriff had said nothing, just pursed his lips, so Adam continued. "He courted Melora Rigby—was open and honest about the relationship. What about the other two women killed? Was Joe ever seen with them? Hell, he wasn't even here. Send a rider to Rancho Verde and found out the truth.

"I have."

"And?"

"He's not back yet."

"Look, Sheriff," Adam said, crossing his arms across his broad chest, "this number seven means something to the killer. There are always seven women killed and then the killer moves on. A long time goes between these 'bouts.' Anyway, he kills one a month for seven months and from the dates I saw, the killings are almost always exactly a month to the day; some vary but only by a day or two. But we all know that seven and three are special numbers—magical numbers like being the seventh son of the seven son. Or religious. The number seven in this case is symptomatic of an obsession."

"What do you mean?" The sheriff squinted, waiting.

"Look, there are the seven days of creation, Pharoah saw seven cattle, Samson's hair was in seven plaits, there are the Seven Seals, God rested on the seventh day and there were seven spirits of God. But I think it has to do with destruction as related in Revelations. 'But in the days of the voice of the seventh angel, when he shall begin to sound, the mystery of God should be finished.' And then there's 'And I saw another sign in heaven, great and marvelous, seven angels having the seven last plagues; because in them is filled up the wrath of God.' I think someone believes they're doing God's work."

"Wait a minute," the sheriff said, throwing up his hands. "You mean someone believes that by assaulting and strangling those women that they're doing something holy?"

"Yes."

"But that doesn't make any sense."

"It does to me—and it sure as hell does to them."

The two men were silent and then the sheriff spoke. "I'm just gonna wait until my deputy comes back from Rancho Verde. I'm not sayin' it'll clear your brother of Melora Rigby's murder but it's a least a start."

Adam wasn't satisfied but he knew he had given the sheriff something to think about, something to consider.

And now Adam stood alone at the Rigby door and instead of being greeted by the lovely Evangeline, it was Mr. Rigby who answered. Adam decided the gargoyle had the more pleasant expression.

"Good evening," Adam said. Rigby said nothing, just stared at him. "Evangeline invited me to dinner…" and then Adam heard Evangeline's sweet voice come from inside the house.

"Invite Mr. Cartwright in, Father."

Rigby stepped aside—begrudgingly—and Adam stepped into the house. His anxiety receded a bit when he saw Evangeline. She smiled and reached out to take his hands. He took them and raised one to his lips, softly kissing it.

"So good to see you, Adam, I'm glad you could make it. Where's your brother?" Evangeline looked around Adam.

"He decided to stay in town and spend the evening visiting with our brother, Joe. They have a checker game planned. I think Hoss plans to even the score between them although they'd have to play a marathon; the score is something like 4,000 to zero—Joe's favor." Adam realized he was making awkward small talk, something he detested—useless, meaningless chatter but his anxiety had suddenly come back even stronger and he talked to conceal it.

As they ate, Adam complimented Evangeline on her cooking. The beef roast was perfectly cooked, the outside crisp, the inside still red and moist. The yams were delicious, he said. They were slathered in fresh butter and a sprinkling of brown sugar. And the biscuits, he said, were as light and fluffy as clouds.

Evangeline dismissed the compliments but she was delighted that he noticed; her efforts to please Adam had succeeded. Evangeline's mother had always impressed upon her daughters the importance of food to a hard-working man—basic fare would serve but it must be special—the man must feel that his wife has tried to please him and serve him not only nourishing but extraordinary fare. And as she was cooking that day, preparing the food, Evangeline wondered if Adam Cartwright would consider her as a wife. She said a silent prayer asking God to forgive her for her mutinous thoughts. After all, Dr. Branson, a good and righteous man loved her, had been courting her for over two years and had assumed—as everyone else in town who saw them together so many times did—that she would soon be Mrs. Frank Branson. But life had changed, Evangeline realized as she scrubbed yams for dinner. Adam Cartwright had appeared and Evangeline felt a glimmer of excitement and a warmth in her belly whenever she thought of the dark-haired man.

They were sitting in the parlor having coffee and the vanilla cream cake that Evangeline had made with Hoss in mind, when the knocker sounded heavily.

"Now I wonder who that could be?" Evangeline said, rising.

"Maybe Hoss changed his mind," Adam added. "He probably smelled your roast and this cake from town." He rose from his seat. Rigby retrieved his rifle that he had left standing in the corner.

"Father, don't point that in anyone's face until we know who it is. It may be Hoss; I've made enough in anticipation of his appetite so I hope it's him." Evangeline opened the front door, her father behind her, and Adam heard her voice in strained greeting. He turned to the door and stood, unhooking the trigger loop on his holster.

"Frank. I didn't expect you this evening."

Then Adam heard the voice of Dr. Branson. "Evangeline, I had thought that we could spend a few hours together this evening—my father's taken to his bed early-but I see I've come at a bad time; I see a strange horse out front. How do you do this evening, Mr. Rigby?"

And then Adam inwardly groaned when he heard Mr. Rigby invite the doctor in for dessert.

"Frank," Evangeline said as she led the doctor into the parlor. "This is Adam Cartwright…"

Adam nodded to Branson and started to put out his hand but Frank Branson stood still, his face stiff and made no effort to be responsive. "I know Mr. Cartwright already but I didn't expect to find him here."

"I invited him, Frank. Please sit down and join us for coffee and cake."

"Yes," Mr. Rigby said. "Sit down, Frank. How's your father? Is his back causing him pain again?"

Frank didn't answer—it was as if he hadn't heard.

Rigby already seated himself but Evangeline and Adam still stood for a moment longer and then, Evangeline sat down. Adam followed suit but Frank still stood casting his shadow across the group.

"Frank, please," Evangeline said. "If you're not hungry, at least sit and have coffee with us. I'll get you a cup." Evangeline went to the sideboard.

"I won't sit and keep company with him," Frank said, indicating Adam.

"Frank, please…" Evangeline was embarrassed and distressed. "You're both guests in our home—you and Mr. Cartwright. I had invited both Adam and his brother…" She wanted Adam to stay and be comfortable but it was obvious to all that Frank Branson was outraged at finding Adam at their table.

"His brother murdered your sister…and your daughter," Frank said to Mr. Rigby. "How can you even invite him into your home? He's not good enough for you and I'm shocked you can't see it!"

"It's just dinner, Frank," Evangeline explained. "Mr. Cartwright and I…"

"You and him what? Do you think he has any honor, Melora, despite his honeyed words? That he'll…"

Evangeline froze and both Adam and Mr. Rigby were stunned into silence as well. Frank looked at them and then his face changed; he pulled himself up straighter and composed himself.

"I apologize," Frank said, his voice rough, shaky. "I don't know why I called you by her name. We've all been through much lately and I suppose that since her death has been on my mind, that I…" No one said anything and so Frank said, "I take my leave of you, Evangeline, Mr. Rigby…Mr. Cartwright. I'll let myself out."

~ 0 ~

"Goodnight, Father," Evangeline said.

"Goodnight," he replied. "And don't stay up late. Good night, Mr. Cartwright."

"Goodnight," Adam replied. And then they were alone—he and Evangeline.

"I should be taking my leave. I'm sorry about, well, about upsetting Dr. Branson. I can't say that I blame him…I would have behaved worse, I'm sure, if I had walked in on my fiancée entertaining another man."

"We haven't said anything about the obvious—me, for the sake of my father but…hearing my sister's name…that's what upset my father. And as for me, his called me my sister's name as if he was used to saying it…that's what's upsetting. I'm sorry, Adam, that your evening, our evening was ruined. It was like a darkness falling over us all. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I was a bit surprised hearing the confusion names but my father called my brothers and me by each other's names every so often when we were younger. Sometimes he would just say, "You there."

Evangeline smiled but then looked sad again. "It wasn't just the name, Adam. It was what he said. It was as if he was talking about my sister and your brother."

Adam reached out and softly touched her cheek. "Don't worry so," Adam said. "It was just a simple slip of the tongue." Adam didn't believe his own words as the chill of hearing Melora's name, that he spoke to Evangeline using Melora's name, was still with him. Evangeline, he noticed, had blanched and Mr. Rigby had a look of horror on his face when the confusion if names occurred. "Now," Adam said, taking Evangeline's arm, "Walk me out. It looks like a lovely evening."

Evangeline smiled gently and together they walked out into the yard where Adam's horse was secured.

"It is a lovely evening." They stood together looking up at the sky. "I know during the day people can deduce the time by the position of the sun. Can it be done at night?"

"Well, the moon rises in the east and sets in the west like the sun, so on the nights when we have a moon, like tonight with the full moon hanging right there, yes—a person can approximate but I know a better way."

"Oh? How's that?"

Adam pulled out his pocket watch and flipped open the cover. "It's 9:13."

Evangeline laughed delightedly. "You're quite the logical man, aren't you, Adam?"

"About certain things but when it comes to a beautiful woman, well, I'm not quite so level-headed."

Evangeline looked down modestly and then back up to Adam. "Let's walk a bit, shall we? Some nights when my father has retired I come out here and sit on the porch and think about all that's out in the world, all the things I've never seen but then I consider how beautiful it is out here."

The couple began to slowly walk out into the evening. "This landscape is similar to the southern end of the Ponderosa—small trees, brush, a few cactus, wildflowers, rocks and the view of the mountains."

"Really? I've never been anywhere else. I wonder what the rest of the country looks like, the rest of the world. I've seen pictures of the Swiss Alps—all that snow. And glaciers. Have you been to Switzerland?"

"No," Adam said. "Never had any reason."

"But you don't have to have a reason," Evangeline said eagerly. "I'd like to travel just to travel. I mean to see what the ocean on both sides of the country look like and to see…anything else but this all my life. Have you traveled much, Adam?"

"Compared to some people, I suppose I have."

"Where was your favorite place?" Evangeline hung on his arm as they meandered slowly. Adam noticed that Evangeline was only looking at him and had no idea where they were going. He looked around though as they walked, noticing their direction by glancing at the moon; it wouldn't do to become lost.

"Well, let me think…New Orleans was the most intriguing place, I suppose, but a fever runs rampant in the heat of their summers so the best time to visit is in the spring; the flowers are blossoming then and the scarlet bougainvillea blooms on the balconies. And it's not as hot as just two months later."

"Oh, it sounds lovely. Tell me about it." And Evangeline hung on Adam's every word as he described the mixture of people, that Arcadians, the West Indians and the French. But he lingered over his descriptions of the elegant restaurants as well as the street vendors and their steaming pots of gumbo. He described the taste of the city's savory dishes such as jambalaya, shrimp creole, and crawfish étouffée. "Now the étouffée is hot, has peppers in it and will burn your mouth if you're not used to it—I usually wash it down with a cool beer, or a sazerac, but the best of all are beignets—a crispy fried pastry that's dusted with sugar."

"Oh, it sounds wonderful. Maybe one day I'll go to New Orleans. Is it far from here?"

"Oh, not so far that it would take longer than a few weeks but it's not a comfortable trip. Most of the trip is by coach." Adam stopped and listened. It was water, roiling, angry water.

"What is it, Adam? What's wrong?"

It sounded to Adam as if he was a great distance away, as if hearing Evangeline's voice from under water. His throat threatened to close up on him and he took a shaky breath. And there was that odor again—the dizzying, sickly-sweet odor that had imbued the fortune-teller's tent so many years ago. And his head and throat filled with smoke while he saw the world though a haze.


	17. Chapter 17

"I hear water," Adam managed to say. "Rough water." Adam guessed it was only about 30 yards away.

"Yes, it's Agua Negre—Black Water Creek. I hadn't realized we had walked this far. Let's turn back, Adam. I don't think we should be here. Please, let's go back. I just feel something bad here tonight."

"No…" Adam wanted to turn back as well but something stronger compelled him to continue. "You wait here. I just want to see…I have to see what it looks like." Adam left Evangeline standing in the darkness while he followed the sound of the water rushing over boulders. He worked his way down the rocks to the water that rushed by, kicking up water as it hit the rocks in its path. Adam felt himself shake with trepidation—and desire; it was the lure of the water, the dark depths in front of him that called, that sang to him. _"You have water in your blood, boy," Ben had said once as they sat looking at the large lake bordering their property, "from both your grandfather and me. It calls to us."_ The water seemed to be inviting him in—it teased as it flowed and rushed by, making a loud noise that drowned out all else. The snow melt had given it new strength, greater force and it was seductive, as seductive and alluring as a beautiful, wanton woman inviting him into her bed. Adam put out a hand to feel the chill water, anticipating the iciness but instead there was a sharp, heavy, sickening pain in the back of his skull and he toppled over into the black water. A shock ran through him at the coldness surrounding him and he couldn't think. The pain in his head was confusing and he fought to rise to the surface of the tumultuous water. But he didn't know what was the surface and what was the bed as the water churned and rolled him over and over, tossing him about and under as it pulled him along as if he was a mere leaf that had dropped in. He slammed into boulders that lay in his path and then found himself helplessly pulled around them before he could completely grasp them and rescue himself. His face rose to the surface and he fought to get toward the shore while he filled his painful lungs but then he was turned about and under again and he was enveloped in the dark water.

In the water, against its strength Adam was helpless and disoriented. He became desperate to breathe but couldn't get to the surface, couldn't raise his head and he was tumbled almost head over heels as the rushing water took him and tossed him. His throat closed and his head felt as if it was going to explode along with his lungs. He released his breath and thought, _"This is how I'm going to die—in black water—just as the fortuneteller said."_ And had he been able to, he would have laughed—laughed at his insistence to disregard the vision so long ago, the vision of his death. Then all went black behind his eyes and Adam was carried along with the current.

~ 0 ~

The fire in his lungs flared, burned, when he gasped and sucked in one huge breath. Adam tried to sit up—seeing nothing at first but then hearing his brother Hoss' voice and a huge hand grasped him and pulled him to his feet. Adam was unsteady, his legs rubbery and he coughed up traces of water while he tried to fill his lungs with the cool night air. Adam wondered what had been used to strike him, what had been slammed against his skull. His head throbbed and with each breath his ribs protested. He couldn't stop shaking and then something heavy, Hoss' vest was draped over his shoulders.

"Dang, Adam, I thought for sure you was a goner. C'mon, get on my horse and we'll go to the Rigby's."

Adam grabbed Hoss' shirt front. "Evangeline. I left her alone."

"Adam, Adam, settle down. Miss Evangeline, she's….she's back at the house by now—I'm sure. Now c'mon. I don't know how far from the house we are but you need a warm fire afore you catch your death."

"I thought I'd already caught my death," Adam said weakly as he leaned on Hoss. When they reached the horse, Adam tried to mount. His legs were weak and pulling himself up caused sharp pain but with Hoss' help, he was finally sitting on the horse although none too steadily, and Hoss was leading it toward the Rigby house. "How'd you find me, Hoss? What're you doing out here?"

"I beat Joe five games of checkers in a row but as the evenin' went on, I started gettin' anxious—worried you'd get a bellyache from eatin' your dinner and my share too. So I was ridin' out to the house and I…."

"And what?" Adam was still trying to calm his breathing; his throat was raw and his head ached.

I heard somethin', sounded like a person cryin' and sorta screamin'—not like she done seen a mouse or nothin' but like she was being hurt or scared or both. So I followed the sound and I couldn't quite make out what was happenin' 'til I got down and, well, it was that doctor on top of Miss Evangeline. He was sayin' she was a jezebel and the Whore of Babylon and that, well, that she needed to be kept from her seven-headed beast…I hauled him off of her and swung on him so hard that he went flat. Anyway, she was…upset but had enough sense about her to tell me that you were at Black Water Creek—that Branson told her you were dead. So's I rode along the creek lookin' for you and iffen you hadn't been wearin' that white shirt, well, I don't think I would've spotted you. I had a helluva time draggin' you out and thought you was dead. But then I 'membered that time Hop Sing saved Joe when he had near 'bout drowned at the picnic. Remember, Adam-how he turned Joe on his side and slapped his back until water came outta his mouth and then layin' 'im on his back, pushed up on his belly 'til he breathed again? That's what I done to you and damned if it didn't work."

"That explains why my ribs feel like you and your horse both kicked me in the chest." Adam had one arm wrapped about his ribs, holding them tightly. "But Evangeline, she's all right?"

"Yeah, when I left her she was on her way back to the house and Branson, well, I doubt he'll come to for a long time and even iffen he should, well, I tied his wrists with my bandana."

Hoss walked as quickly as he could in the dark leading the horse, searching for lights. He had told Adam Evangeline was back at the house but he didn't actually know—and she certainly wasn't all right.

 _As Hoss rode in the direction of the Rigby house, he slowed down. He knew he was near it—his sense of direction one always strong. He listened and heard water on his left—strong water not more than maybe 30, 40 yards away. "It must be Black Water Creek," Hoss thought. He was about to go on when a sound broke through-a cry, a scream and then, above it, a man's voice—an angry voice. Hoss rode toward it, his heart pounding._

 _A large, dark, creature was moving on the ground. The moon was full but he still couldn't make out exactly what it was but it looked like some hulking, struggling creature—and then the words Adam used to mean intercourse, the one from the play "Othello," came to him—"The beast with two backs."_

 _Hoss dismounted while his horse still moved and rushed to grab the person on top—a man—a man who was spouting invectives at the woman under him, calling her the Whore of Babylon, telling her she was a jezebel and must be punished and then purified. "The words of the Lord are pure words," he ranted as he moved atop a struggling Evangeline, "as silver purified seven times." When Hoss grabbed the man by the shoulders and tossed him aside, he was shocked to see it was the doctor, Frank Branson. Hoss stepped back in surprise and then glanced at the woman who was sobbing and scuttling back, pushing with her heels. Her dress was ripped, torn open at the bodice, her skirts pushed up, and her white thighs shone in the moonlight._

 _"_ _Miss Evangeline, it's me, Hoss." He moved toward her but she looked at him, terrified. Hoss thought she looked like a whipped dog, one that cowers from all human touch after being mistreated. He kneeled down and she looked at him, her hair half-tumbled down. She clutched her torn bodice, pulling it closed, and then looked over Hoss' shoulder, her face full of horror. Hoss turned and received a slam in his jaw. He tumbled over slightly due to the loss of balance but the punch barely registered. Hoss was soon on his feet and facing Frank Branson. He smiled—this would be easy—almost too easy._

 _"_ _You have no right!" Frank screamed. Hoss saw the wildness in the doctor's eyes that Adam had described—the focus on another reality. "You shall be punished by hellfire!"_

 _"_ _And you can go to hell," Hoss said and gave his all as he smashed into the doctor's jaw. Hoss felt and heard bone under his knuckle and Frank Branson dropped to the ground like a felled tree and lay, slightly twitching. "I hope I killed you, you son of a bitch." He then turned to Evangeline who had stopped sobbing but still shook._

 _Hoss kneeled to her again. "Miss Evangeline, where's Adam?"_

 _"_ _He…he went to the creek. I didn't want to go…I asked him not to go." Her face was as white as the moon._

 _"_ _Can you get back to your house by yourself?" Hoss gently asked. She nodded. Hoss raised her from the ground and Evangeline, wide-eyed looked at Frank prone on the ground. Hoss followed her gaze. "Don't worry none about him. I'll tie him up. He ain't goin' nowhere but jail. Can you find your way?"_

 _Evangeline whispered yes and started shuffling in the direction of her home and then she began to run and Hoss was torn; he had to find Adam but he also had to take care of Branson. Hoss pulled his bandana out of his back pocket and working quickly, rolled Branson over and, pulling his arms behind him, wound the quickly-rolled bandana around Frank's wrists, knotting the two ends. The he remounted and headed to the creek._

 _Adam wasn't there. The water was rushing and Hoss knew that a man would be moved along quickly but Adam wasn't weak and would try to reach the shore. But the fortuneteller's prediction for Adam sounded in the back of his head—"Beware of black water. You will drown in it."_


	18. Chapter 18

**I want to thank all who have let me know you're out there reading. And for those who commented and gave me the encouragement to continue writing, I do appreciate you as you add to the pleasure of writing.**

"She's gone to live with my sister in Idaho," Mr. Rigby said. "I wanted her to get away from here. I lost one daughter and almost lost another. After I sell this damned house, I'm joining them. I don't even want to see Frank hang, I just want to be done with here."

Mr. Rigby sat in his parlor, his head dropped, his shoulders slumped. To Adam, he looked like a man who life had beaten down the way Hoss had beaten Branson—neither would ever be the same men they had been.

"Yes," Adam said quietly. Even two days later, his head still ached after being struck. They concluded that it had been a good-sized rock that had sent him tumbling. His ribs were still tender and a deep breath brought a sharp pain. "I think that's the best thing for Evangeline, getting away from here; I had hoped to tell her goodbye though—and to apologize for leaving her alone." Adam held his hat in his hands as he stood in front of Mr. Rigby; both Hoss and Joe waited outside. The three brothers were on their way home but Adam had insisted on stopping. For the past two days he had chastised himself, stating that he should never have left Evangeline alone in the dark while he searched for the creek, no matter how alluring the sound of water had been.

Hoss had tried to convince Adam he wasn't responsible for what happened to Evangeline. "Ain't you always tellin' me we can't ever say that things would've turned out different if we'd done somethin' else because…now how do you put it? It ain't logical because-the outcome might be the same no matter what we done. We can't predict how things would've turned out 'cause that would be…hypoth, something contrary..."

"Hypothesis contrary to fact."

"Yeah, that. Adam, iffen you had stayed with 'er, maybe Branson would've put a bullet in the back of your head 'stead of just hittin' you with a big-ol' rock, and he still would've done what he done to Miss Evangeline and maybe worse. "

Adam smiled wanly. "It's easy to say, isn't it, Hoss, but hard to hear. I suppose that logic has its place but…it's cold comfort."

Adam had asked Hoss and Joe if they wanted to go in the house. Joe said no, that it would only bring back the pain of losing Melora. Hoss also declined; he was still having problems with the incidents of that night and hadn't been able to sleep which was unusual. But Adam had slept—a drugged sleep. Hoss had suggested laudanum to ease his aching head and ribs and although Adam usually declined, this time he accepted and was soon peaceful. Hoss wondered which pain Adam was silencing with the opiate—the physical or emotional.

And as Hoss waited on his horse outside the Rigby house, that night came back to him. He had sat in the Rigby parlor, trying to console Evangeline even though he hadn't yet been told the whole story; Hoss wanted to wait until he and Adam were alone to discover all that had happened.

Hoss, almost as soaked as Adam, had declined the offer to dry out; he wanted to take Frank to the sheriff. And then there was Evangeline.

Evangeline had made it to the house alone and now she sat in a chair, her knees drawn up as she huddled with a blanket wrapped about her. She refused to meet anyone's eyes, just sat and rocked slightly back and forth. Her father paced back and forth, saying that he didn't know what to do. Adam kneeled in front of Evangeline, speaking to her in a calm voice but she wouldn't meet his eyes nor would she respond so Adam ceased; Hoss hadn't had to tell Adam what she had endured—Adam knew. After all, he had been told about Melora and found young Amy so long ago. There had to be a connection and Adam thought he knew and later he would find he was correct; the son was carrying on the madness, the obsession of the father.

Hoss had gone back for Branson ater taking Adam to the Rigby's. He found the doctor's horse tied in the trees near the house; it had nickered to Hoss' horse when he and Adam arrived. Hoss tossed the unconscious Branson over his horse as he would a sack of grain and then, untying the bandana and using the looped rope on his saddle, Hoss tied Branson's dangling hands to his ankles and delivered Branson to the sheriff in Mules' Pass.

As Hoss filled out the complaint, Branson, who had recovered to some degree, sat in a chair, hands still tied and glassy-eyed, muttering passages that Hoss assumed were from the Bible. The length of rope lay on the floor, his wrists still bound.

"Go, take yourself a wife of harlotry and children of harlotry, for the land has committed great harlotry by departing from the Lord. You have sinned and thou must pay the penalty—for the wages of sin is death. But in the days of the voice of the seventh angel, when he shall begin to sound, the mysteries of God shall be finished."

"He been mumbling like that the whole time?" the sheriff asked, looking oddly at the babbling man. Frank Branson seemed not to be aware of his surroundings.

"Only since he come to. Like I said, when I found him doin'…what he was doin' to her, he was callin' Miss Evangeline a whore, a jezebel, even sayin' that she'll be devoured by dogs and that she had to be kept from riding the seven-headed beast or it'll be the downfall of mankind—trash like that."

" _Revelations_."

"What's that you say?"

"That's a passage from _Revelations_ —something about the end of the world. Once, the doc here substituted for the minister when he came down with something, and he preached _Revelations_ , the Apocalypse-death and destruction and damnation, you know, the Four Horsemen and all that. Give me a sermon on brotherly love and turnin' the other cheek any day."

"Me too, Sheriff. Actually, give me a nice, dull sermon where I can doze off a bit and I'm happiest."

The sheriff chuckled and then glancing back at Branson, turned back to the form on his desk and said, "Religious fanatics are the worst because they feel God is always on their side."

Hoss said nothing. He was impatient. Adam said he would return to town as soon as his clothes dried. Hoss knew that Adam was filled with guilt and sadness and regret but Evangeline wasn't in the state of mind to be helped, at least not with help by him. And there was no doctor to call on, no one to give her any medical assistance so Adam and Mr. Rigby agreed that she should have a dose of laudanum slipped into a mug of chamomile tea.

The office door opened and Adam walked in, looking at Branson who was now talking in muted tones; Frank never even looked up.

"You come to file charges?" the sheriff asked.

"No. I'm sure he slammed me with a rock but I don't know it for fact and I didn't see what he did to Evangeline Rigby. I just hope you'll release my brother."

"Not until I get the corroborating news from my deputy." The sheriff stood up and pulled Branson up from the chair, unlocking the door to the back, and untying his wrists, placed Branson in the cell next to Joe. The sheriff began to wind the length of rope and handed it partially completed to Hoss.

"Can we see our brother/" Adam asked.

"Put you firearms on my desk and you can."

Adam pulled out his water-logged pistol, then slid it onto the desk along with Hoss' and they both went back to talk to Joe and to try to explain the madman in the adjoining cell.

~ 0 ~

"I don't quite understand—everything happened so fast and yet it seems it was a lifetime ago," Joe said to Hoss as they rode along. Adam wasn't in the mood to talk so Joe went around him to get the details. While Hoss and Joe talked, Adam pulled ahead and left them a few paces behind; he had enough going on in his mind, mulling over all that had happened.

Earlier that day the deputy had come to the hotel and told Adam and Hoss that Joe was being released and they could pick up his horse at the livery, the bill was gratis; the deputy brought back the telegram confirming Joe's earlier whereabouts. Adam and Hoss were relieved; it was finally over—at least that part. And now they could 'release" Cochise as well. The two men had seen Joe's horse each time they stabled their own and the animals were always glad to be reunited, snuffling and whinnying to each other in recognition. So as soon as Joe was released from jail, his brothers and his horse were impatiently waiting.

"Joe, I done explained it. Old Doctor Branson, well, he must've been the one who was killin' them females long ago. Sheriff Murphy said that he was gonna send out telegrams and try to track down where the old doc worked all those years before they came to Mule's Pass and then turn it all over to the federal marshal. Looks like old Doc was a lunatic some of the time—somethin' about women bein' infidels and the full moon each month-and killed the females he thought were…behavin' badly, mainly by struttin' around without no man to protect them—brazen, hussy behavior the sheriff called it. Stuff was all mixed up in both docs minds and they thought women—all women,-were evil anyway, leading men to sin, incitin' 'em with ideas of lust—all that stuff just because of Eve, what the Bible said 'bout her. Sheriff said that he couldn't get no real sense outta the old man but found all sorts of notes and a journal kept by Frank Branson where he wrote what he did—a written confession. That'll help, the sheriff said, since Frank don't seem too lucid anymore."

"I just can't believe that he…" Joe's voice cracked with emotion and he stopped talking. His memories of Melora were still fresh in his mind. And Joe had wanted Frank to die, would have strangled the man with his own hands if allowed. But as he had watched the doctor in the next cell, Joe saw him as the sick, pathetic man he was and his lust for revenge receded to a degree, but he still desired to see Frank hanged.

The three brothers rode in silence. Adam had been quiet since they left Mules' Pass and now Joe was silent as well. Hoss rode along glancing at one and then the other and wondered what it was that made them both so open to pain and suffering. It wasn't as if they weren't experienced with life and its emotional traps, especially Adam, and yet they exposed themselves to pain over and over again. Shakespeare had called them "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune." Hoss recalled and that's what they were. A man was constantly "shot" and "struck" in an attempt to destroy or test him, Adam had said when explaining the phrase to Hoss.

And he thought back to the Fortuneteller's tent so long ago and the predictions she doled out. _"For you, you will know a woman's love but never marry. You are a man of the land as your father is and will keep him company all his life and be a wealthy man yourself, living on the benefits of the earth"_ And Hoss had been disappointed at the time as he wanted a wife and family as any other man would, but now he couldn't think of a better future than to live his life out on the land he loved so much, the Ponderosa. Yes, the land never tore out your heart but held new delights and joys each day. He could find peace just by riding out of the property and looking at the snow-capped mountains and the lake and the sky filled with wild geese.

 _"_ _Yes,"_ Hoss decided, _"I guess I'm the luckiest of us all."_

~ Finis ~


End file.
